


love is a friendship caught on fire

by seasalttears



Category: Holby City
Genre: Bernie Wolfe - Freeform, F/F, and these two women could fall in love in any universe and in any time, because i can't stop my gay feelings, berena - Freeform, berena au, serena campbell - Freeform, this is my collection of aus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-07-01 20:32:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 52,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15781581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasalttears/pseuds/seasalttears
Summary: A collection of AUs.





	1. i couldn't help it, it had to be you

**Author's Note:**

> apparently alternate universes are the only thing i can and i am willing to write. chapters are one-shots unless requested by popular demand. feel free to request any prompts or AUs in the comments, and i will probably write it because i have no self control. 
> 
> first one is an AU where instead of having an affair with Alex whilst in Afghanistan, Bernie meets a Captain Serena Campbell ;)))). they're less tortured in this one because i can't handle angst??? title is from an ABBA song because i'm gay.

If you had told Major Berenice Griselda Wolfe just one month ago that she would end up in a supply closet with the door firmly locked and Captain Serena Wendy Campbell looking at her like all she wants to do is devour Bernie alive, she would have laughed in your face and said, “I’m married, and I am most definitely not _gay_.”

But we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves here, aren’t we?

 

_One month earlier:_

Serena Campbell didn’t think she would ever deploy again, yet here she is, currently on her way to the frontlines, this time in Afghanistan, to join the team of surgeons there. She thought her Captain days were behind her, forgotten when Jason was suddenly dropped in her lap, choosing instead to leave the RAMC after her last deployment and bond with the nephew she never knew she had and reconnect with the daughter she no longer knew. They asked her back though, offering another deployment while siting that they needed her expertise and years of experience. She worried she would be abandoning Jason, wouldn’t want to make him feel unwanted, but after weeks of assuring her, (“ _Auntie Serena, being a Captain in the RAMC is arguably the most exciting part of your life, so I think you should go back and then tell me all about it.”_

_“I don’t want to just leave you though, Jason.”_

_“I’m an adult, I have a job, and I can stay with Alan. There is no reason for you to stay here.”)_

She couldn’t find it within herself to say no.

Her thoughts then shifted towards Elinor. Her daughter may be difficult, but she supported her mother in this deployment right alongside Jason. Serena couldn’t say she wasn’t surprised when Elinor voiced her opinion on it, never quite got over the fact that she missed important moments in her daughter’s life because of her career. Serena doesn’t regret her choices, but she also doesn’t think she deserves Elinor’s praise, even after years of Elinor insisting that she understands, and she thinks it’s cool that her mother _is a badass army medic and saves tons of lives!_

The truck she’s being transported in hits a pothole and jostles the vehicle, knocking Serena out of her thoughts. She’s not nervous per se, this is nothing new, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t anxious. It’s been quite some time since she has felt the thrill of a trauma, adrenaline coursing through her veins and spurring her into action. Shifts at the hospital in Holby where she worked after leaving the RAMC were fine, but they weren’t the same. Nothing was. She wasn’t excited either, she knows better. She knows there is nothing exciting about performing risky surgeries with limited supplies and equipment on your fallen comrades, but she also knows that she can’t wait to get back into it.

The truck comes to a grinding halt and Serena doesn’t wait to hop out and grab her rucksack. She’s greeted by a Corporal Hofmann, his salute a little too eager and his smirk a little too obvious.

“Welcome back, Captain Campbell. We’ve been expecting you.”

“I bloody hope so. I didn’t spend twelve hours trying to get here just to find out there’s no trumpet fanfare on my arrival.” She winks and salutes him back, starts walking towards the base as Corporal Hofmann falls into step beside her. Her fatigues seem heavier than she remembers, the sun a little stifling. Serena moves these observations to the back of her mind, knows they won’t do her any good out here.

“I’ll show you to your sleeping quarters to set your stuff down, and then I’ve been instructed to take you to Major Wolfe.”

“Oh?”

“Your reputation precedes you, Captain. I dare say Major Wolfe has even been looking forward to meeting you.”

His bluntness surprises Serena, not many people willing to do so these days towards a commanding officer, and she almost knocks him down for it, but his comment stops her. Major Wolfe? Eager to meet _her_? Serena isn’t surprised of her reputation, she knows she’s had one for years, but never really concerned herself with it. And of course, Serena has heard of Major Berenice Wolfe, one of the best trauma surgeons in the country. They never quite managed to cross paths, despite both of their successful careers in the same work, and Serena finds herself almost excited to finally meet this woman, the one she’s heard about for years but can’t even put a face to.

She’s led down a series of hallways towards the women’s quarters, is shown her room and throws her sack on one of the four beds. She doesn’t ask who else has been assigned to the room, doesn’t really care. Right now, all she can think about is this _Major Wolfe_. She raises her eyebrow at Hofmann until he leads her down another set of hallways, passes the mess hall on the way. They arrive to a small office with the door open and someone seated at the desk, staring at down at papers in their hands. Upon further inspection, Serena assumes this is Major Wolfe, her blonde hair pulled back into the regulation bun, although Serena thinks her hair is built for a style that’s a bit messier, tendrils of it falling out and curling around her face.

Hofmann shifts and stands in the doorway, halting Serena’s observations, and she’s only slightly irritated.

“Major.” He salutes and continues blocking Serena in the doorway as she watches the blonde woman stand from the desk and walk over to them.

“Corporal Hoffman.”

“Captain Campbell,” he tilts his head towards Serena, “just as you asked.”

“Thank you, Corporal. You are dismissed.” Her voice is low and deep, full of authority. He nods before turning and weaving past Serena, one glance revealing a concealed blush on his face, and as she turns to greet the Major, she instantly understands why.

Because _holy fuck_ , _nobody has ever mentioned how fucking attractive Major Berenice Wolfe is_.

But Serena is a distinguished soldier, a commanding officer, veteran of war, and esteemed surgeon, and she squares her soldiers and salutes the woman that has her blushing furiously on the inside. Major Wolfe smirks and salutes back.

“Captain Serena Campbell, welcome back to the RAMC. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” holds out a hand for Serena to shake.

“Trust me, Major Wolfe, the pleasure seems to be all mine,” Serena says as she quirks an eyebrow and firmly grips the Major’s hand, lingering a bit longer than necessary. Later, when looking back, Serena will swear that Bernie blushed at her words (“ _I did_ not _, Serena. We were in the desert, it was hot!”_ )

“You have quite the reputation, Captain. I very much look forward to experiencing your skills in action.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to wait long, Major.” Serena holds eye contact but can definitely see a pink flush on her face now. Serena knows it goes against almost every rule the RAMC implements, but Major Wolfe is attractive and nice, and good at her job and it has been so long since Serena allowed herself this; allowed herself to have fun. Flirting is harmless. (In four months, Bernie will tell Serena “ _there is nothing harmless about your flirting, my love_.”)

Major Wolfe clears her throat and glances down at her boots before looking back up at Serena, blush gone.

“Yes, well, I’ll bet the real thing could beat the reputation any day.” She smiles at Serena, and for a second, Serena swore she was being flirted with, getting as good as she gave. But alas, Major Berenice Wolfe lifted her hand to push a strand of hair behind her ear and a piece of gold caught the morning sunlight streaming in from the window and seemed to smack Serena in the face. There, her left hand, fourth finger from the right.

_She’s married._

Serena felt the disappointment wash over her in waves.

 

Major Bernie Wolfe was very good at her job. She manages a whole unit of soldiers, she saves lives every single day, and she’s good at it. What Major Bernie Wolfe is not good at, however, is _absolutely everything else._ She’s not awful, she’s not horrendous, but she’s not _good_. She doesn’t make friends very easily, has never been good at small talk, but her fellow soldiers respect her, and they joke with her, falling into friendships that last lifetimes. She knows she could have been a better mother, could _be_ a better mother, but it’s not like her children _hate_ her. She knows they don’t. They write letters to each other frequently, managed to get leave to see both Cameron _and_ Charlotte off when they left for university, knows how important it was to them for her to be there. She has missed so much, but they always insist that they understand, that they know it’s not her fault, not really. She’s saving lives, how can they be angry with her for that?

And then there’s Marcus.

Oh, Marcus.

Bernie Wolfe’s sweet, attentive, and caring… husband.

She loves him, of course she loves him. She’s spent nearly twenty-five years with the man, has two children with him, of course she does. But sometimes Bernie feels…inadequate? Like something’s missing? Not all there. She doesn’t know why she feels this way, what it is, or what it means. It’s not like she’s home enough for it to be a problem anyways. Most days Bernie feels as if she’s married her best friend, and she knows it could be much worse than that. That’s something she can live with, Bernie thinks, being married to her best friend. She knows it will never be perfect, but she doesn’t need perfect. She accepted it long ago, made peace with it.

At least, she thought she had.

Because right now she is looking at Captain Serena Campbell for the first time and Bernie’s entire world has shifted on its axis. Bernie has always been able to recognize an attractive woman when she sees one but has never put too much thought into it. Before she met Serena Campbell, that is, because _oh my god she’s gorgeous, she’s beautiful, fuck, fuck-_

The quirk of the eyebrow, the tilt of the lips, the warmth of her palm, and Bernie is _floored_. She never knew grey hair could be so appealing until she saw it interspersed with the brown in this woman’s hair.

And she can’t be certain, but is Captain Campbell flirting with her?

“I don’t think you’ll have to wait long, Major.”

Captain Campbell is definitely flirting with her.

And Bernie is panicking.

On the inside of course. On the outside it’s effortless suave and pink cheeks (“ _from the heat, Serena!”_ ) and flirty banter.

On the inside it is sirens going off, alarm bells ringing, tachycardia, and the missing piece of herself not feeling so far off anymore.

Bernie can feel her blush beginning to deepen, so she looks down under the pretense of fixing a strand of wayward hair. She knows it the second she does it, she knows what it means. She knows Serena saw her wedding ring, and for the first time in her life, Bernie thinks of her marriage as a mistake.

“When was the last time you ate? I know you’ve been traveling for hours now, you must be starved.” Bernie tries to mask her disappointment with concern, sees the way Captain Campbell is beginning to close off from her, and that is not something Bernie can handle. If the Captain is surprised with her abrupt change of subject, she doesn’t let it show.

“I could eat.” She says slowly, suddenly wary, and Bernie’s stomach tightens into knots.

“Follow me, I’ll show you the mess hall.” Bernie steps forward and begins to head down the way Captain Campbell came from, barely stops herself from leading her with a hand at the small of her back. Bernie digs her fingernails into her palms instead, lets the physical pain distract her. She knows the Captain probably saw the mess hall on the way to Bernie’s office, probably already knows where it is, but Bernie can’t bare to leave this woman’s side. Not yet. Not until Bernie knows why she is craving her time and attention.

“I’ve read about your work, and I have to say I’m looking forward to seeing it in action.” Captain Campbell is the one to break the silence that settled over them like the dirt on their skin. Her tone is no longer playful, full of professionalism, and Bernie immediately misses it.

“I hope I don’t let you down then, because as I understand it, it’s been a considerable amount of time since you’ve been in the action.” Bernie glances shyly at the Captain to find her already looking, and it takes great effort not to stare back. She seems to understand the hidden question and nods slowly.

“Yes, I left after my last deployment to take care of my nephew, Jason. I found out about a sister I never knew about after she died, and Jason had nobody else.”

Bernie is surprised, not only about Captain Campbell’s selflessness, but because of her openness, which is something Bernie knows nothing about.

“That’s very kind of you, to take him in like that.”

“I guess that’s one way to look at it.” Bernie knows there’s more to the story, but doesn’t press, understanding the sensitivity to the subject.

“Do you have children?”

“Yes, a daughter, Elinor. Quite a feisty thing she is, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Bernie notes Captain Campbell’s wistful smile at the change in subject and smiles herself, which does not go unnoticed.

“And you?”

“Two. Cameron and Charlotte. I wouldn’t call them feisty, but I wouldn’t call them compliant either.”

“I reckon they get that from their mother.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard she’s quite a terror.”

Captain Campbell chuckles and Bernie smiles, feels her heart swelling with adoration for her, and she honest to God cannot figure out _why_.

They reach the mess and Bernie pauses, didn’t really know what to do once she got there. She glances at the Captain and feels her heart speed up at what she sees.

“Coffee? It’s not very good, but it gets the job done.” Bernie’s question distracts her own mind and body from the affects of Captain Campbell, albeit minimally.

“Strong and hot is all I care about when I’m out here.”

Captain Campbell’s eyes glint, and Bernie knows it’s not from the light. Her breath catches, _I’m strong and hot._

But Bernie pushes the thought from her mind and chastises herself, busies her hands with pouring two cups of coffee and indicating the Captain follow her to one of the tables.

“How do Jason and Elinor feel about you deploying again? I can’t imagine it was easy to leave after being home for so long.”

“They actually told me to do it. Elinor is at university and Jason thinks of me as some big war hero, which I most definitely am not, and I didn’t have a good enough reason to tell them no.”

“And your… partner?” Bernie knows it’s bad, knows it’s awkward. She can see Captain Campbell isn’t wearing wedding ring, but she needs the confirmation.

“Currently don’t have one,” she says and Bernie nods, “she actually ended it when I told her my decision. Said she couldn’t handle it.”

Bernie keeps nodding in understanding, knows how difficult it can be to get your partner to understand-

“Wait… she?” Bernie kind of just… blurts it out and she immediately knows how bad it sounded. The brunette narrows her eyes slightly and regards Bernie for a few seconds before responding.

“Is that a problem?”

“No! No, of course not. Sorry, I was just… surprised.”

She wants to loosen her collar and fix her hair and for the first time in her life, _get out of this fucking desert_ because Captain Campbell keeps _looking_ at her and Bernie can’t concentrate.

And then she snaps out of it- she’s a goddamn Major in the goddamn Royal Army Medical Corps and she will _not_ let a pretty woman throw her off her _goddamn game_. As they continue to sit and talk about their lives in a rare moment of quiet, something is shifting; something is starting. They feel it, but they don’t voice it. They wouldn’t dare.

The conversation is interrupted with an incoming trauma and all of Bernie’s chaotic thoughts are buried under the adrenaline and cortisol.

Serena is exhausted when she finally gets back to her bunk that night. Her conversation with Major Wolfe exhilarated and disheartened her at the same time. Never in her life has Serena met somebody she is so equal with- work, family, friends, her and Major Wolfe connect about it all. It’s refreshing, to converse with a woman her own age who understands the difficulties of their careers, the problems it can create, but doesn’t regret the decisions they’ve made. They both love what they do, they’re good at what they do, and they don’t really know life without it. Serena likes Major Wolfe, _really_ likes her, but she knows when to accept yet another loss. After the end of her marriage with Edward, Serena swore to never be a part of an equation that could lead to someone feeling how she did: worthless.  

And not only is she married, she is technically Serena’s superior, and anything more than friendly between them is definitely _not_ allowed.

But never has she felt so enamored by another person, wanting to constantly be in their personal orbit. She knows she’s attracted to Major Wolfe, but she doesn’t know why she is so _drawn_ to her. But Serena knows she’ll likely never find out. Nothing can happen. It won’t happen.

_I’m back in the desert, it’s only fitting another one bites the dust._

Her forlorn thoughts are interrupted when another woman enters the room and flops onto one of the beds and releases a sigh. She looks familiar, Serena thinks she might recognize the eyes from behind a scrub mask earlier when she glanced into the theatre next to hers and Major Wolfe’s. The woman takes a few seconds to notice Serena’s presence and jumps back up when she does.

“Oh, hello. Didn’t see you there.” Serena looks at her and isn’t surprised to see the same blue eyes from earlier looking back.

“Quite alright. Captain Serena Campbell.” Serena sticks her hand out for a shake and the woman smiles gently as she sticks out her own hand, and Serena can’t help but notice how pretty she is, how warm.

“Oh yes! I heard you were arriving today. The base has been quite the buzz about your presence.”

“Oh?”

“You’ve made quite the impression on everyone.”

“Surprisingly not the first time I’ve heard that today, um…?”

“Sorry, where are my manners? Captain Alex Dawson.”

“Well, Captain Dawson, I hope I don’t let any of you down.” Serena likes her, sees great skill and a kind personality within her. She wonders if her and Major Wolfe are close, wonders if they often work together. She doesn’t dwell on it too much, too tired to think much anymore.

 

Turns out, Major Wolfe and Captain Dawson are _very_ close. A week later and the three of them are finally in a surgery together, and Serena is practically radiating with jealousy at how well they work together. She keeps her cool though, has learned to mask her feelings over the years into blank faces and monotonous tones.

But they are cracking jokes, winking eyes, and _laughing_.

Serena hates Captain Alex Dawson because she absolutely cannot hate Captain Alex Dawson because _Captain Alex Dawson is perfect._

_Fuck._

 

They agree while operating together, exchanging words over a man’s marred leg. He’s their comrade, a friend even, but they don’t think about that. Instead, they flirt to distract.

“Major Wolfe, would you like to clamp?”

“I would be _delighted_ to, Captain Campbell.”

Gloved fingers brush each other, tingles only slightly subdued.

“Please, call me Serena.” She glances at the blonde, brown eyes meeting hers and crinkling with a smile.

“Then I must insist you call me Bernie.”

“But you’re- “

“Fair’s fair.”

Serena closes her mouth, swallows her protests, knows better than to argue once Major Wolfe- _Bernie_ has made up her mind.

 

The weeks seem to fly by and Serena can’t help the fact that she’s falling in love, despite all her efforts not to. Time is a bullet and Serena’s heart is wrapped in Kevlar. It would help if they didn’t work so well together, two sides of the same coin, but they do. Therefore, they are always together, thrust into theatre together to save lives and limbs- love is the unplanned variable, not anticipated in the initial hypothesis of war.

As Serena falls more in love, it gets easier to ignore it. A bit backwards, yes, but as she falls more in love she notices more of Captain Dawson. The way she looks at Bernie, the way she laughs with Bernie, the way she loves Bernie. She notices because now she recognizes the symptoms, and her heart is breaking because, if ever by some miracle, Bernie were to realize her preferences weren’t what she once thought, of course she would choose Alex Dawson. She’s perfect and Serena thinks she might be easy to fall in love with.

About a week after Serena accepts her unfortunate situation and decides to be Bernie’s friend because that’s all of her she’ll ever get, Bernie starts to retreat. She no longer banters with Serena, no longer smirks at her behind scrub masks, or sits in the mess with her to drink shitty coffee and ease the burdens they carry. She avoids conversation, doesn’t even talk to Alex anymore.

Serena is too caught up in Bernie to notice Alex’s gazes towards Major Wolfe herself, the agony and regret behind them. She doesn’t notice because Bernie has stopped looking at her, even when they operate on the same bloody patient. Bernie looks down, but never looks up, and Serena feels like she’s the one being operated on.

Bernie is right in front of Serena, but she misses her. 

 

Bernie is walking down a hallway towards her office, deep in thought, until a hand flies out from nowhere and pulls her into a supply closet. She fists her right hand and has to use her left to physically restrain herself from punching Serena in the face.

“Jesus Christ, Serena! I nearly punched you!”

“Sorry, but I needed you alone.”

“You couldn’t have just come to my office?”

“Stop distracting me with questions, I pulled you in here for a reason.”

“The reason being…?” Serena suddenly seemed nervous and looked away. She bites her lip and Bernie feels a pull, low in her stomach.

“You need to tell me why you’re avoiding me.”

Bernie felt her stomach twist for an entirely different reason. She gapes and huffs a bit, opens and closes her mouth multiple times before an excuse finds its way out.

“I haven’t been.”

Serena looks at her impatiently, hands on her hips.

“Major Wolfe, has anybody ever told you you’re a bad liar?” And Bernie gulps, because no, they haven’t.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, looking down to hide her eyes from Serena’s, scared she would be able to see the truth trying to escape from them.

“ _Bernie_.”

The reverence in Serena’s voice makes Bernie look back up, and her resolve crumbles, just like that. She has to tell Serena the truth and she has to tell her now, because for once she wants to be in love and not have to lie to herself about it.

“Alex kissed me,” and that is _not_ something Serena expected to come from Bernie’s lips.

“Sorry?”

“She kissed me, and I knew.” Serena didn’t want to know but still found herself asking.

“Knew what?”

“That I… that I like…” And Bernie can’t finish the sentence because she’s never said it aloud and her entire world is shifting and collapsing right in front of Serena’s feet.

“Bernie…” Serena trails off and steps forward, grabs Bernie’s hand in support, aware of what she is trying to say.

“I like girls,” and Bernie stops breathing for a second, because _oh my god._

“You like girls," and it isn’t a question.

“I do, I like girls. Women. I like them.”

Serena chuckles and feels tears in her eyes because she loves Bernie and she is happy for her, even if it means leaving her.

“I’m happy for you.” Bernie smiles and holds Serena’s hand a little tighter, but then drops it. Takes a step back, a look of concentration on her face.

“Serena…” But she holds a hand up before Bernie can finish, doesn’t think she can hear Bernie’s rejection without throwing up.

“It’s okay. I understand. You and Alex probably- “

“Me and Alex?” Bernie looks at her again, takes a step forward, and Serena is confused.

“Yes? You two are… together, right?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Why would you think that?”

“You just said you knew you liked women because she kissed you.” And finally, Bernie understands how this all must sound.

“Well, yes, that is true, but we’re not together. That kiss made me realize a lot more than my sexuality.” Serena can’t help the spark of hope blooming in her, can’t quite eradicate the hopeless romanticism.

“Which would be?”

And Bernie just _looks_ at her, like Serena is the answer to a question that hasn’t even been asked, like she is the oil that stops the hinges from squeaking, like she is the whole universe and a little more. She can’t help but think her soul was allotted space for Serena to fill with her own. Too long Bernie has been searching, but she finally feels like she’s been found.

So, Bernie does the only logical thing.

She lunges and kisses her.

Kisses her like she’s never kissed anyone before, because she knows now she’s never been in love before.

Bernie kisses Serena well, kisses her familiar, kisses her _hers._

 

Later, after they are finished with the trauma that interrupted their healing, they’re sat in Bernie’s office with the door closed. The sky is dark, their fatigues are dirty, and their hands are weak from distress. Later, Serena asks her.

“What did it mean?” Bernie looks up from where she was staring at her coffee, exhaustion evident.

“Hmm?”

“The kiss, what did it mean?” And Bernie sighs, knew this conversation was inevitable. She leans forward in her chair and rests her arms on her knees, still staring into the coffee as she lays her heart down for Serena.

“It meant that I finally realized what has been happening,” she looks at Serena, “that I’ve been falling utterly in love with you.”

Bernie’s gaze holds, and Serena sees the sincerity of her confession as well as the pain it will bring, because-

“Oh Bernie, I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.”

 

It never goes farther than that conversation, because Bernie can’t do that to Serena. She can’t start something with her with a cold, golden band still around her finger. Not only does Serena deserve more, but Bernie’s family does too. They deserve her faithfulness and honesty, and Bernie knows she can’t be with Serena until she gives it to them. But it hurts and neither of them can handle it. 

Is this what they have come down to? Filling desolate landscapes with their unbridled hope and passion, suspended by their own demons? Bernie loves Serena, but she can’t _love_ Serena. Not until they’re home, not until everything is sorted out. They’ve created a web of despair and guilt, coiling it around themselves until they’re cocooned in repentance they may never receive. They can barely stop themselves from giving into temptation. They’ve tasted each other, tasted the love that spills from each other’s mouths and fills their bones. Their souls are attracted to one another, the very essence of them are made from the same star.

They started like this, so they continue like this: dancing with each other in theater, sharing glances over bad coffee, and whispering words of promises and affirmations in closed offices. They don’t think about how long they have until they go back, until they _both_ go back, because it is too long, and neither are ready to leave, not yet. But sometimes the promises feel empty and the hope feels false, and neither know how long they can keep pretending not to love each other.

They continue like this because it's the only way they know how. 

 

And then an IED blows them up.

One minute, Serena and Bernie are playfully arguing over wine, just like six months from now, _(“If I didn’t love you so much, the fact that you prefer white would be good enough reason for me to leave you.”_

_“You don’t mean that.”_

_“Try me.”)_

And the next, Serena is pulling Bernie out of the vehicle on the side of the road. It is terrifying and there’s a fire somewhere and then Serena is panicking because _this is the love of her life and she’s not awake and they haven’t even had the chance to be together and she’s dying-_

And then Serena snaps out of it because she is a doctor and she loves Bernie and she will not let her die like this.

 

She doesn’t even remember how she got back to base, but it doesn't matter because she is looking at the helicopter that is taking Bernie home, back to Holby, and back to her family.

And that’s the moment Serena realizes it, knows whatever they had, whatever they could have had, is over.

 

Two months later and Serena finds herself back in Holby and back on the lift that takes her to AAU. She’s missed it, the slightly more peaceful side of life that occurs on her ward. A locum consultant has been overseeing it in her absence, hopes they did a well enough job. She knows there will be an adjustment period but hopes it won’t be too bad or last too long.  Serena’s thoughts are immediately halted when she opens her office door to see Bernie. 

Bernie Wolfe. 

Major Berenice G. Wolfe, sitting at her desk and doing paperwork. Her hair is messy and it is so familiar that Serena feels her heart swell and retreat, a tide of adoration. Bernie looks up at the interruption and Serena can see the panic fill her eyes from here.

“Serena.” She breathes it, a sigh or prayer, Serena will never know. _("It was a prayer, obviously.")_

“What are you doing in my office?”

“This is your office?”

“You didn’t know?”

“There's no nameplate.”

And then Serena is laughing because _of course_ Bernie, _her_ Bernie, wouldn’t know this is Serena’s job even though they have respectfully shared declarations of love and IEDs that blow them up. 

 

Bernie didn’t really expect to see Serena ever again. It’s not that she didn’t want to, she just didn’t have the courage to find out what they could have been. Being forced back to Holby was a curse disguised as a blessing. She arrived back to an already broken marriage, thankful that the ending could be mutual. She didn’t tell Marcus or the kids about her newfound revelations until she bought a couch and a bed for her new flat, _(“I’m gay.”_

_“What?”_

_“Please don’t make me repeat it.”_

_“Does this mean we have two opportunities for an evil stepmother?”_

_And Cameron was then reminded how strong his mom is.)_

When left alone with her thoughts, Bernie resolved herself to not being good enough for Serena Campbell. Bernie knew she lived in Holby, worked at one of the hospitals, could find her easily enough when she got back. But Bernie is a martyr by nature, and therefore decides Serena doesn’t need her and shouldn’t want her. She deserves more, so Bernie doesn’t try to find her. It kills her, and it haunts her, but she is managing. At least she was, until Serena walks through her office door.

Which apparently, is actually Serena’s office door.

And Bernie is looking at Serena again, and she is all warmth and sunshine and beauty. She is Bernie’s favorite good morning and favorite remedy for a melancholy heart. Bernie thinks she would follow Serena into battle.

Then she remembers she has.

And then she runs, because losing your soulmate is something you never really consider. You meet them, and you love them, but nobody ever talks about leaving them.

Bernie doesn’t know what to do when her soulmate comes back, so she runs.

 

She runs all the way to the roof of Holby City Hospital before she realizes she is a _complete fucking idiot_ and runs all the way back down to AAU. Too many times Serena has had to say goodbye, and Bernie knows half of them were for her. She can’t leave her again, knows she doesn’t have it in her anymore to fight what she’s been feeling since the moment they met. Bernie manages not to take the door off its hinges when she opens the office door to find Serena is sitting at her desk with her head in her hands. Bernie knows she messed up now. 

“Serena.” But she doesn’t move, so Bernie does. She kneels in front of Serena and takes her hands away from her face and faces the tears as she feels her own arriving.

“You left.” Bernie knows Serena isn’t just talking about the roof escapade.

“I know, I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry, Serena. I was scared, and I was stupid, but please don’t think I didn’t think of you every day. I missed you so much and I wanted to reach out, I did, but I couldn't. Not yet." 

“You just left.”

“But I am here now. I’m here and I’m yours.”

“Why do you only love me when one of us is leaving?” Bernie doesn’t have an answer, and she lets Serena go when she leaves the office, the door slamming shut on Bernie's heart. 

 

She knows she deserves it, the way Serena is treating her. It’s not like she _asked_ to be a co-lead on AAU, it was _offered_. But Serena is mean and all sharp edges around Bernie, and it is slowly chipping away at her soul. Sometimes she catches Serena looking at her, but then she is gone so quickly that Bernie is left reeling. She wants Serena and she can’t have her. A dichotomy for the ages. A juxtaposition of her own making. A tailspin of coffee and endeavors and respite.

Bernie misses Serena, and she is right in front of her. 

 

Serena knew she wouldn't be able to stay mad forever. She loves the woman too damn much. She knows she forgave Bernie ages ago.  

 

Bernie’s absolution comes on a Friday night in the form of Serena Campbell knocking on her door.

The tangle of their limbs and the taste of each other’s skin is better than what they imagined it being, back when desperation and desert were interchangeable. Serena cries the first time she sees Bernie’s scar, kisses the very thing that almost ripped her away forever.

“Fuck.” Fingers curl, a thumb moves, and a shoulder is clawed.

“What do you think I’m finally doing, darling?”

 

Two months after that night sees Bernie in Serena’s arms. They’re on the couch, relaxing and committing the comfort to memory.

“I love you.” Bernie doesn’t think she says it enough, forgets that sometimes Serena isn’t aware of the depth of her feelings, that she can’t read Bernie’s mind and hold Bernie’s heart.

“I love you too, darling.” Then suddenly, a shaky breath. 

“Serena, I’ve never thanked you.”

“What for?”

“For getting me out of there, after the IED hit. I never thanked you for saving my life.”

“No need, my love, we saved each other,” and Serena means it, smiles as she wipes away a tear slipping down Bernie’s cheek even though she knows there are more on her own. They reach for each other, a tight hug expressing everything they could never say. They are safe here, and a certain level of tranquility settles over them, a blanket of calm keeping them together and in each other’s arms.

 

They go to bed that night and start to plan the upcoming family dinner they’re hosting, and they both can’t quite believe they get to call it that: family dinner.

Because that’s exactly what they are, them and their ragtag group of children, and they’ve worked hard to get there. Between forbidden romances and messy divorces and IEDs and open-heart surgeries and a couple of _very_ confused kids, they have made it here: together.

They spend the night in each other’s arms, skin is worshiped, contrition is replaced by moans, their names whispered as prayers to deities they don’t believe in. They don’t even realize they’ve spent all night this way until they are lying together and see the sun start to emerge from behind the horizon. A new day dawns before them, the reds and oranges of the sunrise bleed through their bedroom curtains, setting fire to all their past transgressions. Maybe, just maybe, they have finally found their salvation.


	2. i have no fear, have only love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twilight AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i know, Twilight is kind of bad, but i am TRASH for it and i couldn't get the image of a young bernie wolfe as a vampire out of my head, so now i pass that image onto all of you unwilling participants. most of the dialogue and events are straight out of the movie, and no i will not apologize for it. ALSO, i am american and very much not British, so i don't know jack shit about the British schooling system, and you guys are just going to have to bear with me here. 
> 
> thank you for all the love on the last chapter, i'm working on a sequel to it right now and i will try to have it up soon, but i just started school so... :))))
> 
> if you ever want to request a certain prompt or AU, my tumblr username is kaylarhenn, so feel free to message me on there. other than that, enjoy! chapter title from "Gypsy" by Fleetwood Mac.

Serena McKinnie is having the worst day of her life.

Starting a new school in the middle of the term in a new city was definitely not the way she expected year twelve to go, but she didn’t have much choice. Her mother was dead-set and nothing Serena said could change her mind.

Ric is friendly when he introduces himself to Serena on her first day at Holby City High School, if not a little over-eager. The rest of his friends are nice enough too, not that Serena can remember any of their names. They invite her to eat lunch with them, sharing laughs and complaints about the gloomy weather, making inside jokes about teachers Serena doesn’t know. She doesn’t know the teachers, she doesn’t know these people, she doesn’t know this city, and she’s never felt so alone. She misses London, it’s busy streets and loud noises drowning out the quiet that seems to settle over Holby. It’s eerie, as if everyone wants to speak but is afraid to. Everyone has a voice they don’t use.

Serena doesn’t think she’ll ever like Holby, but her thoughts are interrupted because, right there in the cafeteria, she sees _her_ for the first time.

A girl walks through the cafeteria doors and it takes everything within Serena to not openly gape at the sheer beauty of her. She’s all messy blonde curls and long legs moving quickly across the room, managing not to look at anybody but seeing everything at the same time.

“Who’s she?” Serena interrupts the current table conversation, can’t really find it within herself to feel sorry.

“Oh, that’s Berenice Wolfe. She moved down here with her parents from Sussex a few years ago when her dad transferred to work at the hospital. She keeps to herself, doesn’t really talk to anyone.” One of Ric’s friends’ answers, thinks his name might be Fletch. His tone implies a conspiracy, and Serena really wants to find the truth.

“And apparently nobody in this school is good enough for her, not that I care.” Ric sounds indifferent and she immediately knows he’s been rebuffed by this gorgeous stranger.

“I wouldn’t waste your time.” Raf, another friend that isn’t hers, says, and Serena looks down as she blushes, embarrassed at being caught staring.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

But Ric seems insistent and Serena assures him again, eases his worry. But she can’t help looking back at the mystery that is Berenice Wolfe. She has food in front of her, but she isn’t eating. She thinks she understands why everyone is put off with her, thinks it’s because she’s absolutely _gorgeous_. Pale skin with dark eyes, face chiseled like marble. Her movements were smooth and graceful, almost as if they were choreographed. _Goddess_ is the only word that comes to Serena’s mind when trying to describe her, and if it wasn’t for the dark circles under her eyes, Serena would think Berenice was. This was the kind of person Homer, Dante- even Sappho, wrote about. Serena’s gaze travels up the blonde’s body, committing every detail to memory. She eventually reaches her eyes to find her already staring at Serena, eyes intense and brooding, a frown etched on her lips.  

Serena holds the gaze, feels her fate looking back.

 

One hour later Serena walks through the door to her last class of the day to find the only open seat is right next to Berenice Wolfe, the lone object of her thoughts. Serena starts to head towards her, but she sees Berenice almost immediately tense up and minutely turn her head in the opposite direction. Her pace slows, and she tries not to let the disappointment show on her face. She takes her seat and notices Berenice’s hands are in fists, the tendons taught. The class begins, biology, and Serena continues to steal glances out of the corner of her eye, but the blonde doesn’t move. She’s statuesque, The Thinker or Michelangelo’s David. She doesn’t even look like she’s breathing, and Serena feels herself bristle a bit, a little insulted.

Berenice jumps out of her seat a second before the bell rings, out the door before anyone else has even reacted, and now Serena is angry, because _how dare_ this girl ignore her and act like she’s bothered by Serena before she even knows her, before she has even introduced herself. She doesn’t care how attractive a person is, it doesn’t give them the right to act like a prick.

Serena’s anger follows her all day and well into the night. It nags her, and it makes her even angrier that a complete stranger has managed to affect her like this. She decides to confront Berenice tomorrow, feels like she deserves an explanation for the abrupt behavior and rudeness.  

 

But Berenice Wolfe isn’t at lunch the next day, and when Serena walks through the door for biology, she is still nowhere to be seen.

In fact, Berenice doesn’t show up to school for the rest of the week. One week of Serena sitting in class by herself and wondering what the hell she did wrong, what she could have done to warrant this kind of treatment. Because it had to be _something_ , and Serena was determined to find out what.

 

Monday of her second week at Holby City High School finds Serena walking into her biology class, only to find Berenice _bloody_ Wolfe looking back at her. She steels herself and keeps her expression blank as she settles into her seat, stares straight ahead. She’s determined to not let it show that she cares, that she’s been silently steaming for a week. Berenice is staring at her and Serena fidgets, feels suffocated under her scrutiny, but the silence between them is broken by the perpetrator herself.

“Hello, I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself last week. My name is Berenice Wolfe, but you can call me Bernie. You’re Serena?” Her voice is low and throaty, sounds like a hauntingly beautiful piano melody. Serena thinks that’s fitting, because she _is_ haunting, _is_ beautiful. Serena thinks Brandenburg’s concertos have nothing on Bernie Wolfe’s voice.

“Yes,” she replies, and it’s all she can manage without yelling at the paradox building within her. She’s angry, but she can feel herself starting to calm, the mere presence of Bernie is soothing. Their teacher is giving instructions for an activity, but Serena can’t hear anything he’s saying, can only focus on Bernie as she pushes the microscope on the table towards Serena.

“Ladies first,” and Bernie has the audacity to smirk. Serena begins the activity, keeps the conversation going. She wants an explanation, is determined to get one.

“You were gone.”

“Yes, I was out of town for a couple of days. Personal reasons.” Bernie doesn’t reveal anything else, and Serena decides to leave it there, not press for more. For now. She nods, and they continue the activity for a few more minutes until Bernie speaks up again.

“So, are you enjoying the rain?” And Serena has to chuckle, because _seriously_?

“You’re asking me about the weather?” Bernie looks confused.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Well, I don’t really like the rain.” Serena answers the question anyways, decides to save the other girl’s obvious floundering. Bernie chuckles as she writes, laughing at a joke Serena didn’t hear.

“You don’t like the rain, yet you move to a city that’s known for it’s gloom and doom?”

“Well, I didn’t really have much of a choice.”

“Why?”

“Why do you want to know?” Serena turns defensive as she tries to figure out Bernie’s intentions.

“I’m just trying to figure you out. You’re very difficult for me to read.” Bernie looks at her then, her gaze deep and Serena feels it reach her soul, but then notices something.

“Did you get contacts?” Serena feels like she’s tempting destiny for asking.

“No.”

“Oh. Last time I saw you, your eyes were black. Now they’re a golden brown.” Bernie finally looks away, averts her eyes from Serena and stumbles over an explanation.

“Yeah, it’s the… fluorescents…” And with that, she walks away.

 

The next day is sunny- a remarkable event that doesn’t happen very often. Ric, Raf, and Fletch catch her sitting outside during lunch.

“Beautiful day, huh?” Raf asks her as he sits down next to her at a table, notices the way her eyes are glazed and searching. She hums non-committedly.  

“If you’re looking for her, she’s not here. She’s never here when the sun is out. Dr. and Mrs. Wolfe take her into the mountains to hike or something.” Serena nods in acknowledgment and tries to focus on the people in front of her. She laughs at the right moments in conversation and teases Fletch when appropriate, but her mind won’t stop wandering to short curls that have never seen a brush, and pale, slender fingers.

 

In hindsight, this was the moment Serena knew Bernie Wolfe wasn’t human.

Serena steps out of her vehicle in the school parking lot, preparing to face the day. She glances across the parking lot and sees Bernie leaning against her own car, staring. She looks away, now focused on thoughts of warm eyes and pale skin, trying to figure out the enigma that is Bernie. She’s so focused that she doesn’t hear the squeal of tires and horns blaring until she turns around and sees a van heading straight for her. Trapped between her car and the second side of light, Serena closes her eyes and waits.

But instead of crunching metal and bones, it’s those pale hands and golden eyes.

Serena’s eyes shoot open as Bernie pulls her down and sticks out her other hand, as if to try and stop the van, which is _ridiculous_ because a van of that size can crush a person. It should have crushed them. But Serena sees the van collide with Bernie’s hand and it bounces a little, a huge dent now in the side, and Bernie’s arm is left unharmed. Bernie turns to her and looks like she’s checking for injuries, and Serena can feel Bernie’s hand on her back as she holds her close, all ice and no heat. She’s speechless, can’t form a coherent thought because _there’s no way any of this is real, this is impossible-_

The last thing Serena remembers before she passes out is Bernie gently laying her on the ground and walking away before people begin to crowd the scene.

 

Serena wakes up in the hospital to see a man with pale skin, golden eyes, and blonde hair looking back at her.

If it wasn’t for the resemblance, the beauty of this man would be a dead giveaway as to who he is.

“Welcome back to the real word, Ms. McKinnie.” He helps her sit up in the bed and begins to check her over, hold a pen light to her eyes.

“You must be Dr. Wolfe, Bernie’s father.” He nods and wraps a blood pressure cuff around her arm.

“I am. Do you know my daughter?”

“We sit next to each other in biology. And… she’s actually the one who saved me… from the van. She got to me so quickly, she was all the way across the parking lot- “

“Yes, well it sounds like you were very lucky,” he cuts her off, “and you show no signs of a concussion, but if you start to feel any pain, I want you to come back. For now, however, you’re free to go. Your mother is waiting for you in the family room.”

“Thank you, Dr. Wolfe.” She knows a dismissal when she sees one.

Serena starts walking towards where her mother is waiting, and feels the mystery surrounding the Wolfe family tangle deeper as it coils itself around her too.

 

Serena goes home that night and researches. She’s always wanted to be a doctor, and right now she is Bernie’s diagnostician- determined to figure her out and _what the fuck is going on._ Her breathing stops as she types the words in the search bar on her computer. _Cold one._

Serena can’t quite believe what she finds, but she isn’t surprised.

 

She sees Bernie looking at her from across the parking lot, like she always does. She’s been waiting for Bernie to get here because she finally has answers, and now she wants them confirmed. Serena starts across the parking lot and walks right past Bernie, hopes she’ll get the message.  She smiles when she hears footsteps behind her.

They reach a clearing, what is probably a meadow in the warmer months. Serena hears Bernie behind her still but doesn’t turn around.

“You’re impossibly fast and strong. Your skin is pale white and ice-cold. Your eyes change color, and sometimes you speak like you’re from a different time. You never eat or drink anything. You don’t go out in the sunlight… How old are you?” She feels Bernie moving closer with each word she rambles and each reason she lists until she’s right behind Serena.

“Seventeen.” Her voice is low, quiet. Serena inhales a shaky breath, affected by the proximity between them.

“How long have you been seventeen?” There is a moment before Bernie answers, and Serena knows whatever the answer may be, it has the power decide what happens from this point forward. A prophecy is coming to head, a calendar is ending, a moon eclipsing.

“A while.” And that’s it, that’s all Serena needed.

“I know what you are.” Serena’s breath is short and quick now, her whole body is trembling, and it’s not from the cold.

“Say it. Out loud.” Bernie’s voice is demanding, she needs this just as much.

“Vampire.” The world seems to pause for a second, waits for the reaction.

“Are you afraid?”

Serena finally turns around and looks at Bernie, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to what she sees.

“No. I know you won’t hurt me.” Instead of answering, Bernie grabs her arm without warning and pulls Serena onto her back and begins to run. Like, _really_ run. Serena knew she had inhuman speed, but this is something else. Trees are flying past and bushes are whipping at their feet. They reach the top of a giant hill, still covered in a shroud of trees, but open to the sunlight. Bernie puts Serena down and opens her coat, begins to unbutton her shirt. Serena openly stares and can’t quite stop the gasp that comes out of her mouth when she sees what is underneath.

Bernie’s skin is _sparkling,_ wherever it is touched by the sun. She is radiant and ethereal, and Serena thinks she has found a guardian angel or an elven queen.

“This is why I don’t go in the sun, people would know my family different.”

“It’s like diamonds. You’re _beautiful_.”

“Beautiful? This is the skin of a _killer_ , Serena.” Bernie scoffs in disgust and buttons her shirt back up.

“I don’t care.”

“I’m the world’s most dangerous predator. Everything about me invites you in: my voice, my face, even my _smell_. You can’t outrun me, you can’t fight me off. I’m designed to _kill_ , Serena.”

“You’re not like that.” She knows she should be afraid, knows she should run away, but she is captivated.

“I’ve killed people before.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Serena moves closer despite her words, tries to reassure Bernie that she doesn’t care, she only wants _her_ , but Bernie keeps moving away, always just out of reach.

“I wanted to kill _you_. I’ve never wanted to taste a human’s blood so much in my life.” Bernie looks her in the eyes and seems almost wild.

“I trust you.”

“Don’t.” The word is sharp, meant to cut.

“I’m here, I trust you.” But Serena doesn’t get hurt very easily, and she tries to get closer to Bernie again, but she jumps out of the way and _quite literally_ into a tree.

“My parents and I are different from others of our kind, we only hunt animals and learned to control our thirst,” she hangs off a branch and leans closer, “but _you_ , Serena McKinnie, your scent is like a drug to me.”

“Is that why you hated me so much when we met?”

“Yes, because I wanted you so badly. I’m still not sure I can control myself around you.”

“I know you can.”

Bernie drops down from the tree and steps into Serena, backing her against a tree, but leaving a small distance. She knows this is Bernie giving her space to run if she wants to, but Serena has never been claustrophobic and the feeling of Bernie’s body against her own makes her knees weak.

“I can’t read your mind. You’re the only person I’ve never been able to read.”

“You can read minds?” Serena’s pitch rises with disbelief and Bernie chuckles.

“That’s the most surprising part of this whole situation for you?” Instead of answering, Serena leans in closer. Bernie brings her arms up on either side of her head, palms against bark.

“I’m not afraid of you. I’m only afraid of losing you, like you’re going to disappear on me again.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you.” Bernie leans in as she whispers this declaration.

“I’m right here.” A little more.

“So, the lion fell in love with the lamb.” Serena gains the courage to put her arms around Bernie’s waist and manages to bring her even closer. She’s anchoring herself to the object of her desires, is letting Bernie feel the trust and the warmth seep into her.

“Shouldn’t it be the wolf fell in love with the hare?”

Bernie’s laugh reverberates into Serena’s bones, despite its honking nature, and she finally lets her lean in and close the gap between them. Serena moans at the feel of the lips against her own. They’re perfect, they’re cool, and the _taste_.

Serena might be Bernie’s personal drug, but Serena thinks she might have just found hers too.

 

_Two years later:_

 

Serena knew the consequences of her decision. She loves her friends and family, and she’ll miss them, but she knows she will never regret her choice.

It’s only further affirmed when she opens her eyes for the first time in three days, heart still and skin pale, to see Bernie sitting across the room. Serena knew she was beautiful, but with her new eyes she would weep if she could.

“Good morning, I’ve been waiting quite some time for you.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting, darling.”

And Serena thinks her voice sounds like bells.


	3. i was so lonesome, i was blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life was fucking good. 
> 
> Bernie worked in a nice hospital, on a great ward, with an exceptional trauma unit, and a phenomenal co-lead. 
> 
> A co-lead who also happened to be her girlfriend. 
> 
> Soon to be more than girlfriend, if Bernie’s plans follow through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello YES it is the sequel to the first chapter "i couldn't help it, it had to be you" !!! quite a few people asked, and i can't help but deliver. it's shorter than the first one, but I've always been a gal for quality over quantity. i also messed with the timeline of the show a little bit, so this takes place many months after S&B are reunited after the IED in my story. you'll understand soon.
> 
> title is from the same ABBA song because it's still good and i'm still gay. enjoy!!!!

Life was fucking good.

Bernie worked in a nice hospital, on a great ward, with an exceptional trauma unit, and a phenomenal co-lead.

A co-lead who also happened to be her girlfriend.

Soon to be _more_ than girlfriend, if Bernie’s plans follow through. When running said trauma unit, on said ward, in said hospital, sometimes it can be difficult to get time alone with said girlfriend. But out of all the ways she imagined her evening with Serena could be interrupted, Alex Dawson was not one of them.

 

She passes the nurses station with her head in a file as Fletch calls out to her.

“Bernie, you’re needed up in CT for a consult.”

“Why me?”

“Oh, do you want me to ring them back and ask? Or can we both just assume it’s for a patient in dire need of medical attention?” She considers it.

“Touché.”

As she heads to CT, Bernie can’t stop thinking about later. Tonight is the catalyst for the rest of her life, the deciding factor on what happens from here on out. A supernova of life. She steps into CT with a skip in her step and a smirk on her face, which falters when she lands on Dom.

“Dr. Copeland what are you doing here?” His face twists in exasperation.

“I was paged.” He shrugs, and Bernie turns to address the nurse next to him.

“Bernie Wolfe, trauma surgeon, I’m not sure who called me.”

“I did.”

She knows that voice, she would know that voice anywhere. Bernie turns around and sees Alex Dawson staring back at her. Bernie doesn’t get a chance to ask her why the hell she’s here and why the hell she paged Bernie before they have to save a man’s life together. It’s easy to fall back into their rapport, a body a conduit between them. When the patient is stable and sporting a new neck incision, Alex comments on the old times and Bernie realizes their proximity, takes a step back. Alex looks at her confused, a little hurt?

Bernie doesn’t look back as she runs out of the room.

 

Serena was nervous _._

Apparently, Bernie has plans for them tonight.

Now, that’s not something out of the ordinary- Bernie Wolfe can be quite the romantic, but she’s worried because Bernie has been so skittish around her for the past couple of days. She jumps when Serena walks into the room, hasn’t spent the night since last Thursday, and avoids eye contact like the bubonic bloody plague.  She’s up to something, but Serena hasn’t figured out what it is yet. She’s not even sure she wants to know. _Surprise holiday? She’s fallen in love with somebody else? Spice Girls reunion tour tickets?_

Either way, it has Serena in fits, simultaneously dreading and wishing for tonight to come sooner.

 

Bernie cannot catch a goddamn break.

Between her patient constantly crashing and Alex looking at her like _that_ , she wants to be anywhere but here. She’s being suffocated as she’s being forced to face her past and she can’t handle it, not today. Today was supposed to be good, prolific in love, but instead she keeps getting screwed at every turn. The final straw is having to tell a pregnant woman her estranged husband is dead, and it breaks her heart. It kills her because it makes her imagine losing Serena, then remembers she nearly did, and has to retreat to the locker room to calm herself down. Bernie hears the door open and somehow knows who it is without looking.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just needed, um, five minutes.” Alex closes the door and moves to sit next to her. Bernie knows she’s going to bring it up, she knows they have to talk about it. She hates it that she can’t run. Evolving is necessary and running away from her problems is one of the things Bernie had to outgrow.

“You need to tell me the truth. I told you I loved you, and you ignored me for weeks. Then you went back home, and I never even got a phone call, let alone an explanation.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left things between us the way I did.”

“So why’d you do it?” Bernie looks over and has to face the damage she’s done.

“I was afraid. That kiss made me realize a lot about myself. About who I am, and what I was feeling. I’m sorry I ignored you, I just didn’t know how to deal with it all.”

“It’s okay, Bern.” Alex smiles softly and puts her hand over Bernie’s.

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have- “

“No, that’s not what I meant. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I wasn’t telling you because I expected anything from you. I just couldn’t keep lying to you or myself anymore.” Bernie twists her hand and interlaces her fingers with Alex’s. She looks up and sees nothing but understanding.

“I’m sorry I can’t love you the way you want me to.”

“It’s okay.” Bernie sees the tears start to fall and gathers Alex into her arms. She hugs her before her own tears can be seen, even if they’re felt.

“You were always my best friend first, Alex.”

The shuddering sigh in response is all the confirmation Bernie needs to know things are going to be okay.

 

“Fletch, have you seen Bernie?”

“Not since I sent her up to CT for that consult. She’s been busy with it all day.” Serena nods and continues on. It’s not unusual for the woman to be gone for extended periods of time if she has a case or a consult somewhere else, but she always stops by for lunch or a quick coffee. The fact that she hasn’t been seen on AAU since this morning is what has Serena worried. Her shift ends in a few minutes, but she’s determined to find Bernie and say goodbye before their date tonight.

She begins to walk the halls, checking all the usual spots for her trauma surgeon. _Oh, I’m a bloody idiot._ Bernie is probably in the locker room to change out of her scrubs, and Serena completely forgot to check. She visibly brightens when she spots a mass of a blonde curls from the window on the door, and then visibly deflates when she sees the rest of the scene.

Because it’s Bernie holding Alex’s hand and they’re both crying. _Oh_ , and now it’s Bernie _hugging_ Alex. Even from where she’s stood, Serena can see it’s an intimate moment, and she suddenly feels like she’s intruding. She also feels betrayed, devastated even, because _of course_ Bernie would want Alex. Serena feels like throwing up when she remembers that Alex was there first. She knew Bernie first, was Bernie’s friend first, _kissed_ Bernie first. Serena has never felt this shattered by being the second option. For once, just this once, she thought she could be somebody’s first.

Her tears blur her vision as she walks out of the hospital and tries not to let them fall until she’s safely inside her home.

She failed.

 

“Fletch, have you seen Serena?”

“Did you check the office?”

“ _Yes_ , I checked the office, Fletch. She’s not there, or else I wouldn’t be asking you.”

“Actually, now that you mention it, she was looking for you earlier. Came back after a few minutes of looking to grab her things and then rushed out.”

“She left?”

“That’s usually what ‘rushed out’ means.” Bernie fixes him with a glare and heads back to the locker room to get changed. As she’s doing the last button on her shirt, Alex walks in and sees the worry etched on her face.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Bernie glances at her distractedly and moves to grab her coat.

“Doesn’t seem fine.”

“It’s just… Serena left before saying goodbye and that’s very unusual.” She sighs and sits down, the events of the day catching up with her and resting on her shoulders.

“Has anything happened? Something to upset her?” And suddenly a lightbulb flicks on in Bernie’s head.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

 

She doesn’t really pay attention to the road as she drives, her body is working on autopilot as her brain tries to come up with the right words to say. There’s no right way to tell somebody ‘it’s not what it looked like’ without sounding cliché. There’s no right way to tell somebody you want them forever. Bernie still doesn’t know what she’s going to say as she pulls up to Serena’s house, as she walks along the drive, as her fingers press the doorbell. Any coherent thought disappears as she takes in the woman before her, red eyes and sad mouth.

“Serena…”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, we do have a date tonight.”

“I don’t really feel like going out anymore.” Bernie knows she’s in trouble when her jokes fail to elicit a smile.

“I know what you saw, please let me come in and explain.” Serena steps aside to let Bernie in and they head towards the couch, settling onto it with more space between them than there’s been in six months.

“Alright, I’m listening.” Bernie sees her cue and takes a deep breath, feeling unprepared to make her case.

“Alex was at the hospital today- “

“Yes, I saw.” Serena interrupts her, and Bernie pauses at the hint of hostility in her voice, but no amount of hostility can cover up the despair lacing around it.

“Right, okay. She was there as a locum, but she also was there to get closure.”

“Closure?”

“Do you remember when I told you that she kissed me?” Moment of truth.

“Yes.” A nod.

“Well there’s something I didn’t tell you about that night. She also told me she loved me.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” And honestly, Serena isn’t. She was expecting worse. _We banged each other’s brains out, I realized I actually love her and not you._ Much worse.

“Wait, what?” Bernie’s confused, the whole air of nonchalance suddenly surrounding Serena is a bit unnerving.

“I spent a lot of time in Afghanistan looking at you, but I know I wasn’t the only one. I knew she loved you from the first surgery we did together.”

“Oh,” because Bernie definitely hadn’t known that. Useless.

“Did you give her the closure she wanted?” Bernie hears the question but understands what’s really being asked. Her heart breaks for the inadvertent hurt she’s caused and grabs Serena’s hands, holds them in her own. Serena doesn’t pull away and assumes it’s a good sign.

“Serena, I love you, and only you. I told Alex that. You’re the only one there is for me.” Hands grasp hers a little tighter and she knows this is it. This is the moment.

“Are you sure?” Instead of answering, Bernie fumbles around in her pocket before pulling out a box.

A velvet box.

She opens it and Serena can’t stop the gasp that comes out of her mouth when she sees what’s inside.

A ring. A diamond ring.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

“ _Bernie_.” Serena can’t form the words she wants to say, all competent and coherent thoughts flying from her brain as she keeps staring at this _fucking ring_.

“This is why I had dinner planned, why I’ve been so quiet these past couple days. I was going to ask you tonight.”

“I’m sorry your plans got ruined.” Serena frowns, but Bernie shakes her head and smiles.

“It’s alright, we’re still together.”

“Yes we are.” Bernie steals a kiss and the smile stays, spreads.

“So… is that a yes?”

“Oh… um, no,” Serena says and watches Bernie’s face drop, waits for the beat to pass before smiling, “ _Yes_! Yes, yes.”

And Serena means it, because she wants Bernie. She wants the messy hair and the crisp shirts, the bad housekeeping and the tight smiles. She wants the dark eyes and the trauma skills, the slender hands and the fear of the unknown. She wants it all and she wants it wrapped up into her favorite person. Bernie is her sermon and her rapture, forever leading her into a peaceful oblivion.

 

From the moment Bernie met Serena, Hubble’s Law of Expansion started to feel less terrifying, less devastating. Serena is her lighthouse, her guiding light. Serena isn’t just the Northern star, there to guide Bernie along, she is the whole goddamn sky. The story of Cassiopeia is right there in her left eye, Ursa Major along her right hip. God may have forgotten the sound of Bernie’s prayers, or the sound of her voice, but Serena listens, and Serena is the one to whisper them back to her every night.


	4. blue, blue windows behind the stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a lie, of course it’s a lie. She’s not looking forward to it. Everybody has heard of Spooky Wolfe, the woman in the basement who believes in aliens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're asking yourself: "did she write a berena x-files au?"" the answer is YES, i did. if you weren't asking yourself that, then i'm here to tell you i wrote a berena x-files au. if you've never seen the x-files, i'm sorry and ur invalid because it's the best show ever and yes, i'm willing to fight about it. and yes, I KNOW, the x-files is american, it's set in america, and you have to be american to be in the FBI, but just go along with it, okay? it's not essential to the story and it's an au for a reason. let me have this. 
> 
> chapter title is from a neil young song because... i can?? enjoy!

The basement is dark. Lights flicker above her head like a warning: _don’t come down here, here be monsters._ Gone are the sounds of the bullpen, computers whizzing and people whirring. Down here, there is silence. She walks the short halls and feels the air get tighter with every step, her lungs constricting. She finds the only door with a nameplate, knocks. _Sorry_ , _nobody down here but the FBI’s most unwanted._ In hindsight, she didn’t know what was going to happen when she walked through that door, over the threshold, and into the world of Agent Berenice Wolfe. She should have, but she didn’t. She’s twenty-seven and the world is still pretty alright to her. She didn’t know.

“Agent Wolfe, I’m Serena Campbell, I’ve been assigned to work with you.”

“Oh, isn’t it nice to suddenly be so highly regarded. So who did you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Campbell?”

“Actually, I’m looking forward to working with you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

It’s a lie, of course it’s a lie. She’s not looking forward to it. Everybody has heard of _Spooky Wolfe, the woman in the basement who believes in aliens._

“Oh really? I was under the impression that you were sent to spy on me.” Serena quirks an eyebrow at the woman’s presumptuous nature.

“If you have any doubt about my qualifications or credentials- “

“You’re a medical doctor, you teach at the Academy, you did your undergraduate degree in physics…” Agent Berenice Wolfe goes on to talk about her senior thesis on Einstein all the while revising Serena Campbell’s entire life.

 

Their first case is in Oregon. Bernie thinks its aliens, Serena thinks its murder. The sign of the “abduction” is two marks on the victim’s lower back, and when Serena finds similar ones on her own back, she panics. She grabs a robe and runs to the room right next to hers.

When Bernie opens the door to Serena in a robe and not much else, she feels her heartbeat quicken and keeps her face blank. _I have something I need you to look at,_ and she drops her robe, just like that. Bernie kneels with a candle to inspect the marks and chuckles a bit. _Mosquito bites._ The hug of relief Serena gives her is almost enough to make Bernie forget why they’re here and what it is they’re looking for. A split second, a moment’s hesitation, in which Bernie thinks it’s Serena she’s been looking for this whole time. The moment is gone in the next second, and she remembers. And then their motel gets set on fire, their evidence is lost, and it turns out it _was_ aliens, not that Serena would ever admit or that Bernie could ever prove it. They fly back to D.C. a fraction closer and a decimal more determined to prove their work and their worth.

Neither acknowledge the need to prove they don’t feel what’s happening- an unexplainable connection, a transcendence of their souls to an area of the universe where the only things in existence is them.

 

Serena notices it almost right away. Bernie never calls her by her first name. It’s always _Campbell this_ and _Campbell that_. It takes getting used to, but she likes it. She can’t help but return the favor. _Wolfe, please explain to me the scientific nature of the whammy._

 

Their cases following their first continue in a similar fashion: Bernie has a paranormal explanation and Serena writes it off with science. They are two competing halves of the same coin- trying to balance each other out and defeat each other at the same time. The cases they take help distract them from the looks they keep throwing each other and the touches they keep giving. A hand on the shoulder accompanied by the quirk of an eyebrow. It should be criminal, the way they so openly flirt with each other while pretending its polite comradery between two partners. They are colleagues at best, friends at most. It can’t happen, it won’t happen. It isn’t like that. It won’t.

 

It is one month after the X-Files division was closed when Serena gets abducted, and it takes everything in Bernie not to punch a fucking hole in the wall. Scratch that- she did. Because it was Serena, _Serena_ , that got kidnapped. It was _Serena_ that got duct taped and thrown into the trunk of a car and driven to the top of a mountain- scared and alone with a madman. It was _Serena_ that got taken. It was _Serena_ that disappeared. And now it is _Serena_ that has a headstone made and an epitaph written for her, because it has been a month and she is still gone.

It has been a month and Bernie still wishes it was her, because anything is better than the pain of missing a person you don’t even have.

 

It’s a cold day in November when Bernie prays on a silver pendant- the one thing she has left of Serena besides a file that headlines _MISSING PERSONS: FEDERAL AGENT._ She prays, and she thinks this might be the last time because she has no more hope to live on.

And it is still cold on that same November day when she gets a call from Serena’s mother. _She’s here. She’s in the hospital._ Bernie doesn’t cry, ever, but seeing Serena for the first time in two months in a hospital bed is the closest she’s come to tears since she broke her left arm when she was nine. She smiles softly and only grabs Serena’s hand when her mother has left the room.

Bernie goes home that night and cries for twenty-seven minutes straight.

 

The X-Files get reopened and when Serena comes back to work, they continue like she was never gone. They debate, and the discourse is endless. They are equals and they are rivals. They battle serial killers and alien bounty-hunters and occult practices. The years start to blend together along with them, neither knowing where one ends and the other begins. They are extensions of each other, always reaching out for the other half of themselves. Neither of them disappear again, but a rift is eventually created. A trench of emotions that they aren’t willing to admit to each other, let alone themselves. The closest they get is one conversation after working together for four years.

“Serena,” the first name is used, and it means business, personal business, “if, um, early in the four years we've been working together, an event occurred that suggested or somebody told you that we'd been friends together in other lifetimes- always… would it have changed some of the ways we looked at one another?”

“Even if I knew for certain, I wouldn't change a day.”

It may as well have been a profession of love, with the way they pretend feelings don’t exist. Little do they know, emotions aren’t UFO’s, you can’t pretend they aren’t there in favor of being ignorant.

 

Bernie realizes it first.

They’re in their same office with the broken heating in the same dreary basement one year later.

“Wolfe, vampires aren’t real.”

“Well, why not?”

“Because they don’t exist?”

And as Serena is lecturing her on the history of gothic lore, Bernie realizes that falling in love with Serena has been a gradual process that led her to this moment. She can’t remember life pre-Serena Campbell and she doesn’t want to think of a life that is described as post-Serena Campbell. She loves her best friend and she knows she can never tell her.

 

Serena realizes it second.

They’re still in their office that is still in the basement.

“You can’t just tear pages out of archived books like that. You’re defacing property of the government!”

“And?”

Serena goes on to lecture her on respecting items of historical significance, especially ones that are _federal property!_ when Serena looks at Bernie who is looking at Serena, and there is something there, something she’s never noticed before. Something that Bernie usually keeps concealed and Serena suddenly realizes it. Bernie is looking at her like that because she loves Serena and _oh my god, I love Bernie. I love her. I love Bernie._

The moment it happens is so insignificant, so anticlimactic. They’ve been dancing around each other for years and you think it would be some type of grand gesture. But nope, they are in a Podunk town in the middle of Minnesota? Nebraska? Nebraska. Serena brought a bottle of Shiraz on the trip and they go back home tomorrow, better not let it go to waste. Sitting side-by-side on Serena’s bed in her motel room, watching _Dirty Dancing_ because it’s a classic and also the only thing on, glasses of wine in hand: this is what they have come down to. This spiral of love denied and masochistic refutations of emotions. Mutual pining and longing looks are missed. They are both fucking idiots because if they stopped glancing at each other and just _fucking looked_ , they wouldn’t miss the way they _look_ at each other. They wouldn’t miss the way they love each other. But alas… _fucking idiots_.

“You know, Campbell, I think you’re my best friend.” Serena doesn’t even miss a beat, never takes her eyes off the screen. Baby finally learned to gyrate her hips, and this is her favorite part.

“It’s by default, Wolfe. You don’t have any other friends.”

“Oi! When did you get so cheeky?”

“Not cheeky, just factual.” Serena smirks and glances at Bernie, fucking _look_ , and turns back to the screen. Bernie starts to watch the movie again too but can’t shake the feeling gripping her aortic cavity.

“I’m serious though, Campbell. You’re my best friend.” The reverence in her voice makes Serena tune her attention to the woman beside her. She sees vulnerable brown eyes and softens a bit.

“You’re my best friend too.” Bernie smiles and Serena’s breath catches in her throat, because _has she always been that pretty when she smiles?_

“And I like you. A lot. Well, I _more_ than like you… oh God, that sounded better in my head.” And now Serena stops breathing and _finally_ looks at Bernie and Bernie _finally_ looks back and _this is it_. This is the moment.

“I more than like you too.”

And _holy shit_ if it didn’t take them seven years to get a goddamn clue and realize that maybe, _just maybe_ , even the smallest possibility of affection returned wasn’t that small at all. Because there are an insurmountable number of infinites, and some are bigger than others, and the infinity between them has never felt smaller than the moment their lips met for the first time. They _love_ each other, and they have always loved each other, and they will always love each other because it’s not every lifetime you get to meet your soulmate. It’s not every lifetime you find that one person you’ve been looking for.

 

Theories are just that- theories. Neither proven nor disproven. A scientific explanation based on facts and evidence to explain a phenomenon in nature that otherwise cannot be explained. Special Agents Bernie Wolfe and Serena Campbell cannot be explained. The way they argue yet defend each other. The way they are so willing to sacrifice themselves before they see the other sacrifice themselves first. The way they have defeated every odd and obstacle that stood in their way. Serena was assigned to Bernie to disprove her, to shut her down, but instead they did the exact opposite.  It’s really easy to build a universe for two when there is so much darkness surrounding you. Sometimes they had to make their own stars, create their own planets and asteroid belts. They coiled around each other, in too deep for telescopes to find their location. Nobody can see them, but everyone knows.

Everyone knows it took them seven years and too many losses to finally look at each other and realize the goddamn truth was in each other.


	5. think that i'll keep loving you way past 65

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ocean's 8 AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because i can???
> 
> title from a song in the movie. it's a banger. enjoy!!

_30 Days Before._

_Where is the fking cemetery? 12 pm?_

“Oh. Missed you too.”

And that’s how Bernie Wolfe found herself robbing the fucking Met Gala.

 

_Four Weeks Before._

“So… you want to hit a jewelry store.” They’re walking down the street, arms brushing against each other as they try and block out the cold wind. Serena smirks and shakes her head.

“Not exactly.”

“Diamond mine?”

“Yes, exactly right…” She stops at the end of the street and tilts her head in the direction of the building on the other side. Bernie looks, and she smiles, eyebrows raised. Of course, _of course_.

“The Met.” Serena only nods in confirmation as they continue walking down the next street. They stop in front of a diner, _their_ diner, and it feels like it was just yesterday the last time they were here. Bernie feels her heart constrict when she remembers why they stopped, what has happened in the years between.

 

“You can’t rob the Met. Even if this was possible, you would need… like twenty people and two million dollars.” Bernie shouldn’t agree, _can’t_ agree, not to this.

“Seven.” Serena says it simply, continues eating her pancakes like she’s not trying to plan the biggest heist of the goddamn century in the middle of a diner in the middle of New York City.

“What?”

“I would need seven people and twenty-thousand dollars.” Bernie’s fighting a losing battle and she knows it. She doesn’t have any more counterarguments for the great debate that is Serena McKinnie.

“Why do you need to do this?”

“Because it’s what I’m good at.” Serena’s smile stays put, like she knows she has Bernie.

“I don’t know, Serena…”

“You know what? I have run this thing a thousand times. And every time I got caught, I fixed it, and in three years I wasn’t getting caught anymore. By the time I was paroled it was running like clockwork. Perfectly. And you were there with me, every step of the way.” Bernie can’t stop the flutter inside her, an instinctual reaction to Serena’s words. She feels twenty-five again, her and Serena against the world and telling anyone who stood in their way to fuck off. They’re riding the same fine line, the one between temptation and satisfaction, and Bernie can’t help but continue the game.

“Oh honey, is this a proposal?”

“Baby, I don’t have a diamond yet.” And the way Serena looks at her is almost satisfaction enough.

 

Serena nearly forgets her plan when trying to explain it to Bernie because it is _fucking criminal_ , the way she looks in that stupid, green, velvet suit. Serena chances another glance towards Bernie when she feels her composure slide back into place. Big mistake. Composure gone. Again.

_Stupid, green, velvet suit. Stupid._

They go back to Bernie’s home and for the first time, Serena feels the weight of all the time she’s missed. Everything about Bernie is just how she remembered, yet she’s still different, everything is _different_. Bernie owns a club now? And they are both six years older, no longer the people they once knew.

“I made up a room for you next to mine. Third door on the right.” Bernie busies herself in the kitchen, giving Serena time to get acquainted. She ascends the stairs and follows Bernie’s instructions to find a bedroom that looks like Serena never left. It takes her breath away, just how much Bernie got the details of it all right. She set up the bedroom to look exactly like the one she had before being carted away in handcuffs, before Robbie- _nope. No._

“I used your pajamas, but your shoes were too small for me.” Serena turns, and Bernie is right there. They’re close, but Serena doesn’t move. She looks into the same pair of brown eyes she’s been staring into her for most of her life and this time feels different. There has always been something there, lying just beneath the surface of their friendship. The air is always charged, the tension is always full. Screw Benjamin Franklin, Serena thinks she discovered electricity when she shook hands with Bernie for the first time.

And for the first time, Serena feels like they might be finally ready to see what happens when they no longer hold themselves back. She’s about to say as much when Bernie takes a step back and looks down.

“I should let you rest. I’m sure the past couple days have been tiring.”

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

It may sound like a promise, but Serena knows it’s a rejection.

_Three Weeks Before._

Serena’s plan is projected onto the wall of Bernie’s loft seven days later with the team sitting around her, listening intently as she goes through the slides of her PowerPoint. Assembling said team was much easier than anticipated. None of them were quite willing to say no to the offer of sixteen million dollars in their bank accounts, five weeks’ time.

“In three and a half weeks, the Met will be hosting its annual ball, celebrating its new costume exhibit, and we are going to rob it. Not the ball itself, but a very important set of _diamonds_ that will be attending the ball.”

“The Toussaint?” Donna’s face lifts in disbelieving surprise.

“Precisely.” Serena nods and continues to the next picture. Bernie stands and join her, points to the picture of the woman displayed.

“And it will be on the neck of Elinor Campbell. They’ve got every inch of this place covered, so we have to be careful.”

“I can handle that. I know my way around a security system,” Jac speaks up from her place on one of the bean bags.

“I hear Cher is going to be there. Can we just go to this? Do we _have_ to steal stuff?” Morven’s only half-joking, she loves _Believe._

“Yes.” Bernie and Serena say it in unison, a testament to their life-long partnership. They detail the plan with the group, goes over each role and the meticulous ins and outs.

 “How long did it take you to figure all this out?” Charlotte looks at Serena with something akin to wonder and she can’t help but feel a little smug.

“Five years, eight months, and twelve days.”

“Serena, you _minx_. This is absolutely brilliant.” Charlotte nods in affirmation and Fleur winks at her. She smirks, but lets it fall when she sees Bernie looking at them and guilt creeps in. The way things were left between them when she went to jail was less than amicable. It all seemed to be forgotten by Bernie, she hasn’t said a word about it, but Serena knows they’re far from where they used to be.

She doesn’t really know how to get back there.

 

_One Week Before._

Bernie is _furious_.

She knows Serena is getting some air on the beach, and she storms out of the loft ready for a fight.

“Robbie Medcalf.” Serena turns at the sound of Bernie’s voice and a look of confusion crosses her face at the words.

“What?”

“Elinor’s date.”

“Oh. That.” Serena doesn’t seem concerned and it only manages to piss Bernie off even more, because _how dare she? How dare Serena-_

“Yes, _that_. You don’t run a job within a job, Serena.”

”I’m not.”

“Why do you do this? Why can’t you just run a job? Why does there always have to be an asterisk?”

“Bernie.”

“You frame him, I walk.”

“Stop.” Serena isn’t taking the bait, and Bernie isn’t sure whether she’s relieved or agitated. They’ve been needing to have this conversation for over five years, and they’re still barely discussing it.

“This is just like last time.” Bernie finally turns away. She can’t look at Serena when she’s trying to be mad. She walks further down the shore and Serena goes to follow.

“Bernie. Bernie! He sent me to jail. You have no idea what that’s like.” Bernie turns back around, and she still can’t quite meet Serena’s eyes. Instead she looks out over the water, imagines what it might be like to swim away from this and never come back.

“Yeah, well, he’s going to do it again.”

“No, he’s not. He’s _not_.”

The fight is over, and Bernie knows she would always come back. She would always return to Serena.

 

_Morning of._

“Have you told her?” Serena jumps at the sudden voice in her ear and turns around, coming face-to-face with Fleur.

“Can you wear louder shoes, please?” 

“Have you told Bernie?”

“Told her what?” She’s only stalling for time, she knows exactly what Fleur is asking and she really _cannot_ be having this conversation right now.

“That you love her.”

“She’s my best friend. Of course she knows I love her.” Fleur rolls her eyes in frustration and fixes Serena with a glare.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“She knows,” and Serena doesn’t know which one of them she’s trying to convince now. Does Bernie know? Does she know for five years, eight months, and twelve days, the only thing Serena thought about other than the heist, was Bernie?

“She deserves to hear it from you.” It’s Charlotte, who says it. She appears by Fleur’s side and looks at Serena with an understanding gaze, but her tone left no room for arguments. The three of them look over to Bernie. She’s laughing at something Morven said, but looks up like she senses somebody looking at her. Her eyes immediately find Serena, a hidden talent only for two. Serena sees it clear as day now.

Bernie knows, but she’s waiting for Serena.

This entire time, she’s been waiting.

_During._

It goes perfectly.

Well, almost perfectly.

There’s a few mishaps, but Serena knows it wasn’t her plan, just the stupidity of other people. They get the diamonds, though. All of them.

Serena knows it was all worth it the minute she see’s Bernie in her evening attire. It should be illegal to look that good. She smirks when Bernie starts to cross the street, looking like _that_. Looking at her like _that_.

It should be illegal to make a sequined green jumpsuit look that fucking good.

 

_Three Days After._

“You guys are _fucked_.”

Elinor Campbell makes the grandest of entrances into the loft and somehow fits herself seamlessly into the ragtag group of women currently residing in Bernie’s living room. The yearning for female companionship outweighs the con of going to prison, apparently.

“We prepared for this. We will _not_ be the prime suspect.” Serena reassures them and explains the situation, the rest of the plan. Once they are placated, if only slightly, she allows herself to look at Bernie. She knows they need to talk, but she doesn’t know how to put what she’s feeling into words.

Serena comes up with a new heist.

 

_Five Days After._

“There’s more?” Jac’s face is all astonishment, and Bernie looks almost offended.

“What do you think we are, a bunch of pussies?”

Serena laughs and continues explaining just _how_ , exactly, they managed to steal not one, but _sixteen fucking pieces_ of diamond jewelry.

 

Later, after everyone has marveled over the newfound diamonds, Serena pulls Donna to the side and pulls one of the smaller necklaces out her pocket, points to one of the smaller diamonds.

“I need you to do a favor for me.”

Donna’s beam is the only answer she needs.

 

_One Week After._

“You’re _what_?”

“Going to the West Coast. Me. On my bike. In two days.”

“Why?” Serena has a plan, but she can feel the ashes of it crumbling around her feet. She thinks there won’t be a phoenix reborn, not this time. She has made Bernie wait too long, and now she is leaving.

“Why should I stay?” Bernie’s tone is casual, but they both know the real question she’s asking. _Why should I stay when you haven’t given me a reason to?_ Serena knows this is it, this is the moment she should just say it. _I love you, that’s why. You’re my best friend and I don’t want to live without you. I can’t imagine a life without you and I’m sorry for making you wait for so long-_

“I’ll miss you,” is all she says. Bernie nods, an air of finality taking root in her shoulders.

“Yeah. I’ll miss you too.” Bernie doesn’t look at her when she says it.

Serena feels the ring in her pocket burning a hole.

 

_Eight Days After._

There’s a tentative knock on her bedroom door and Bernie lifts her head from the book she’s reading to find Serena poking her head in.

“Are you okay?” Because what other reason would Serena have for being in her room at two in the morning?

“Yes, I just… couldn’t sleep.” Bernie lets the lie go unchallenged, knows Serena will say what she has to when she’s ready.

“Come in.” Serena closes the door behind her and sits on the other side of the bed, not touching Bernie, but close enough to do so. Bernie goes back to reading after a few seconds of silence, more than willing to give Serena the time she needs. It’s not long until she’s rewarded.

“Bernie?” She doesn’t look up from her book because suddenly this feels serious, more so than she originally thought.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.” Bernie raises her head this time and sees Serena’s expression, the absolute remorse.

“What for?” She knows exactly what Serena is sorry for, but she wants to hear it. She’s going to make her say it.

“For what I did. For leaving you and our partnership behind and buggering off with Robbie.”

“It’s okay.” And it is, Bernie has finally gotten the apology she’s been waiting for, but Serena just shakes her head.

“No, it’s _not_. I didn’t even like him, I was just mad, and he was there.”

“Mad at me?”

“At everything. And I’m sorry I didn’t stay and try and fix it with you. I was rubbish, I know- “

“It’s okay-”

“-and I’m so sorry- “

“Serena, it’s _okay_.” Bernie grabs her hand, a steady anchor in the harrowing storm of her emotions.

“What?”

“Yes, I was hurt initially. But I stopped being angry at you _years_ ago, Serena.”

And just like that, Serena thinks she might be okay.  

 

_Nine Days After._

Everybody has said goodbye, given out hugs and farewell wishes alike to the blonde with the bike and no destination. Serena hangs back, is the last one to hug Bernie because she feels like crying and she wants to put it off as long as possible. Jac, Donna, Morven, Charlotte, Fleur, and Elinor watch the scene with knowing looks and sighs. Serena steps back and lets Bernie walk out of the door, feels like she’s letting her walk out of her life.

“Are you _serious_?” Fleur nearly shouts, and Serena whips around to see six faces looking at her like she’s stupid.

“You are so _stupid_ ,” and honestly, how does Jac hit it on the nail every time?

“That is the love of your _life_.” Elinor seems really irritated.

“You are in love. Totally, utterly, blindly, in _love_.” Serena didn’t know Donna had the ability to look so angry.

“And you’re letting her walk out the _door_.” Charlotte has a very scary glare.

“Go on!” Morven practically pushes her out of the loft.

Serena sees Bernie checking everything over on her motorcycle one last time, and all the speeches and elegies and odes she prepared seem to fall by the wayside. She walks up and turns the blonde around and before she can lose her resolve, Serena finally, _finally_ , kisses her. It is everything she thought it would be and more, the lingering taste of cigarettes mixing in with something that is so distinctly _Bernie_. Serena pulls back, scared of what she might see, but Bernie is beaming.

“Come with me?”

 

 


	6. and you come to me on a summer breeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "we had a maybe-fake-maybe-not marriage 26 years ago and i just realized we never bothered to check if it was legally binding"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keanu reeves and winona ryder are ICONIC and that's all i have to say on that. 
> 
> i know this trope could be written in various ways but i literally just stole keanu and winona's story so sue me, because you'll only get like... $2. 
> 
> ANYWAYS if you guys ever have prompts or ideas PLEASE comment them because i need inspiration !!! i'm not that creative!!!! 
> 
> song title is from a Bee Gees song, and like i said before, SUE ME. enjoy! <3

Serena McKinnie never thought she would see Bernie Wolfe again.

Well, of course she would _see_ her again, there are always pictures and articles circulating. She never thought she would _work_ with her again.

Her phone rings and she puts down the script she’s reading to answer. Before she has the chance to utter a “hello,” Morven’s voice comes across the line.

“You’re wanted.”

“Well, darling, I’m always wanted. The question is, by who?”

“Dominic Copeland. _Destination Wedding_.” Serena considers for a moment.

“I’m listening.” She can practically see Morven’s grin through the phone and second-guesses her decision.

“It’s a romantic comedy, and the last thing on their list is casting the role they want you for, and then they can begin production.” Serena meant what she said, she’s used to being wanted. It’s not unheard of that a production will put itself on pause in hopes of her signing a contract with them. She’s curious about this… _Destination Wedding_ , but she can’t handle playing opposite another male lead who thinks their acting skills are worthy of accolade when all they’re really worthy of is shit.   

“Who did they get for the other leading role?” This is the deciding factor, and Morven’s hesitation to answer signals that she knows.

“Well, that’s the thing…” There’s a few moments of silence and Serena’s impatience gets the best of her.

“Just spit it out, Morven,” she snaps. She immediately feels bad, but it brings Morven to attention.

“It’s a lesbian rom-com.” Serena is pleasantly surprised, thinks this movie is sounding more appealing by the second, but her question goes unanswered. Morven is reluctant to tell her who her possible co-star will be, and she’s suddenly nervous to find out why. 

“That’s not what I asked.” There’s another pause, and this time Serena lets it go.

“They’ve cast Bernie Wolfe.” Serena’s world stops for a few seconds, and she doesn’t hear anything Morven says after the name _Bernie Wolfe._ She can’t believe it, after all these years. There’s silence on the other end and she knows Morven has asked her a question she didn’t hear and doesn’t answer.

“Send me the script.”

* * *

 

Serena is nervous, and she really shouldn’t be. It’s the day of the table read and the day she will see Bernie for the first time since they last worked together, all those years ago. She’s about to walk into the designated room, quickly contemplating if she can drop out of her contract and get the fuck out of here, wondering why she signed on in the first place, when-

“There’s a sight for sore eyes.” She turns around and is faced with the one thing she’s been thinking about for the past three weeks.

“Berenice Wolfe.”

“Serena McKinnie, as I live and breathe.” Bernie holds a hand out and Serena takes it in her own, shaking gently while giving Bernie a once over.  

“Well I wouldn’t know you were doing either, what has it been? Twenty years?”

“Twenty-six, not that I’m counting.” Bernie smirks as Serena rolls her eyes and then realizes she is still holding Bernie’s hand. She quickly drops it, tries to fight the heat she feels in her face.

“I’m sure.”

“How have you been?” Bernie opens the door and holds it for her and they walk into the room together.

“I’ve been good. You?”

“Good, yeah. Good.”

“Good.” Serena feels awkward, wants to be anywhere but here, because somehow Bernie got more attractive with age. They take their seats next to each other and look over the scripts while waiting to start the reading. Serena keeps stealing glances out of the corner of her eye in order to take in everything new about the woman to her left. She’s grown, has come into her own. Is all suave professionalism and swagger, which is never something Serena thought she would use to describe Bernie. No, this woman is a far cry from the young woman she once knew, all nerves and inexperience. She has a few more wrinkles, her hair is shorter, muscles defined, lips soft-

_Fuck._

Serena suddenly knows in all the years since she last saw her, she never quite managed to forget the way Bernie makes her feel, the woman an aphrodisiac of lust and affection and tenderness. An aphrodisiac Serena has been deprived of, and one she can’t wait to get her fill of again.  

* * *

 

It’s the night before the first day of filming, and Serena is in her bathtub- bubbles on deck and wine in hand. She’s nervous, hasn’t felt this nervous to begin a movie in years. And yet, for some reason, the prospect of shooting with Bernie again has thrown her off guard. The ringing of her mobile dashes her inner contemplation, and she reaches for it, careful not to drop her glass in the tub. 

“Hello?” There’s a small pause before a familiar voice sounds in her ears.

“Serena? It’s Bernie.”

“Oh, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She can’t stop the small smile forming on her face, pleased to hear the voice of her thoughts.

“I actually, um…” Bernie trails off, unsure. Serena’s smile falls, and she tenses, her mind quickly going through every grave thing Bernie could say right now.

“Everything okay?”

“I called to apologize.” And that is not something Serena was expecting.

“Apologize?”

“Yes, and I realize it may be twenty years too late, but I can’t get it off my mind. I’m sorry I left without giving you an explanation. I know it’s no excuse, but I was scared, and I didn’t know how to handle so many changes in my life at once.” Bernie finishes at a near whisper, as if she’s afraid of the reaction she’ll get. Serena softens and feels her heart swell with an amount of adoration she didn’t think possible. She finds herself wanting to soothe Bernie’s worries, draw a veil over a heartache of the 90’s.

“You don’t owe me anything, Bernie. Like you said, it was twenty years ago. So what you stood me up? I’ve dealt with far worse in the years since.” She worries it isn’t the right thing to say, that Bernie won’t catch the intention behind her olive branch.

“I wish you hadn’t had to.”

* * *

 

 

“Do we really have to have sex in a field? In the dead grass? Not even a blanket?” Bernie is staring at her and Serena’s marks, about to film the one scene she has been both dreading and looking forward to. Shooting a romantic comedy with “the-one-that-got-away” was not as easy as previously thought. Serena is the sunrise Bernie never got to witness, the rain she’s never felt. She has aged like Bernie’s favorite whiskey, all soft curves and warm smiles, and she really wants to-

_Do not go there. No. Bad._

“Ms. Wolfe, if you would like to complain about my artistic technique, please do so before we’ve already set up the shot.” Dom is sitting in his chair, sunglasses perched on his nose and legs crossed. Bernie likes him, thinks he’s a great director, but she could _really_ punch him in the face right now.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She notices Serena making her way over from getting her makeup touched up and feels her shoulders tense. She’s fantasized about this since filming begin, but now that she’s here, all she wants to do is run across the barren field and never look back. How is she supposed to keep her feelings at bay? Will Serena see right through her? Notice she might actually be enjoying it? Hear the moans Bernie knows she won’t be able to suppress?

“Are you alright?” Serena is looking at her with concern, places one hand on her shoulder. Bernie feels both comforted and like she wants to throw up.

“Just peachy.” Serena doesn’t look convinced, but she’s interrupted by Dom yelling from behind the monitor.

“Are we ready, ladies?” Serena nods and looks at Bernie.

“As I’ll ever be.” 

* * *

 

Bernie was right- she moaned. _Goddammit._

She can’t help it; the scene is a culmination of all her imaginings. Her hands run along the curves of Serena’s sides, lips on her throat, skin just as soft as she remembered. Kissing her is somehow even better now than when they were younger. She gently pushes Serena down onto the grass and lays atop her, finding her lips once more. She knows there’s some technical stuff she has to do, things she needs to do for the scene. A hand here, a leg there, but she doesn’t know when or how and for the life of her _cannot remember_.

Come to think of it, she can’t really think of much else besides the feel of Serena’s lips on her own, the warm hands slowly making their underneath her shirt and up her back, or the thigh placed perfectly between her legs. _Was that part of the scene? Is her shirt supposed to come off?_ Bernie doesn’t really care, only wants to keep doing whatever the hell it is her and Serena are doing because _holy fuck_ -

“CUT!”

The spell is broken, and Bernie comes back to herself. She realizes why Dom yelled cut and feels the flush on her body find its way up her neck and to her face. Her shirt is unbuttoned and halfway off, Serena’s dress not much better. They weren’t supposed to go that far, clothes weren’t supposed to come off. Quick and simple, those were the directions.

But nothing about pretending to have sex with Serena McKinnie is quick and simple.

“Serena, Bernie, shall we take five? I think we could all use a little regrouping for a few minutes. You know what? Let’s even take lunch.”  Mutual blushes and twin looks of embarrassment are the only answers he receives. Two assistants rush over and wrap robes around Bernie and Serena as they stand up. Bernie rushes to her trailer before anybody can get in her way. She can’t look at Serena, she can’t face her, embarrassed beyond belief. She knew she wouldn’t mind filming the scene, might even enjoy having an excuse to snog Serena senseless for a few hours while they get the right shots, but never, _ever_ , did she imagine she would actually lose control.

She closes her trailer door behind her, rests her head against it, and sighs. How is she supposed to go back out there and finish filming the scene when she can’t even manage one take before trying to rip Serena’s clothes off her?

A knock ceases her thoughts and she somehow knows who is on the other side. Bernie tries to gather herself before opening the door when there is another, more insistent knock. She opens the door and Serena is on the other side, just like she knew she would be.

“Bernie…” Before Serena can finish her sentence, Bernie pulls her inside and shuts the door.

“Look, Serena, I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know what came over me- “ Serena shuts her up with a kiss, and that is definitely something Bernie did not expect. 

“I think I do.” Serena whispers when she pulls back and looks at Bernie. Her gaze is shy, and Bernie lifts her chin to look her more fully in the eyes.

“What does this mean?” Bernie continues the whisper, afraid to break whatever serenity she has managed to find herself in.

“I think it means we’ve wasted twenty-six years already, and I don’t want to waste a minute more.” Bernie doesn’t reply, just grins and leans in to kiss Serena again. The feels of her lips is comparable to reverence, her hands a conduit of exaltation.

(When a PA knocks on her trailer door twenty minutes later, Bernie won’t be able to tell you how she ended up sitting on the couch with Serena straddling her lap, hands dangerously close to fulfilling multiple daydreams.)

* * *

 

Their press junket has required an absurd number of interviews, but Serena can’t complain when Bernie is right by her side the entire time. The movie turned out amazing, much to the efforts of Dom. Critics were pleased and fans were joyous. 

“Has it been weird at all, working together again after so many years? Or was it easy to get back into the groove of things?” The interviewer seems almost excited to meet them, and Serena feels proud.

“I wouldn’t say weird. Nostalgic, maybe. And it’s been so easy.” Bernie looks at her when she says this, and Serena feels the blush on her cheeks.

“It was just a very different experience, working on this movie together, compared to the last one we did.”

“That was _Dracula_ , right? Do you have any memories from that set?”

“Oh, we have _loads_.” Bernie smirks and Serena knows she’s going to get a call from her publicist in a few hours.

“Do tell!” The interviewer’s interest is piqued, and she feels Bernie’s hesitation.

“Well, for starters, she was always late.” Serena points to Bernie as she says it, and Bernie looks mock offended.

“I was not!”

“Yes, darling, you were.” Serena pats her hand before quickly pulling away, not trusting herself.

“Well _she_ was always forgetting her lines.” Bernie points right back and Serena is actually slightly offended.

“It was my first movie,” she defends.

“Excuses…” Bernie just shakes her head, smiling, and looks back to the interviewer.

“Sounds like you guys had fun.”

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Bernie says, “remember the whole priest thing?”

“What priest thing?” Serena doesn’t know what Bernie is talking about, a look of confusion crossing her face.

“Remember? For the wedding scene they brought in a real Romanian priest?”

“Oh yeah!” Serena’s face lights up in understanding, finally remembering.

“They used a real Romanian priest?” The interviewer looks like she’s hit the jackpot, her entire face smiling with amusement.

“Yes, he was a real priest, performed a genuine ceremony…” Bernie trails off when she notices Serena staring at her, jaw dropped.

“What?”

“Are we married?”

“Does that count?”

“It could,” the interviewer interrupts, and Bernie and Serena start to laugh. Like, _really_ laugh.

“Have we been married for twenty-six years and just never realized?” Serena manages to get the words out, tears moments away from spilling down her face. Of course she and Bernie would be married for twenty-six years and be clueless the entire time. The situation signifies everything they are: late to the game, slightly ignorant, and helplessly romantic. As her laughter starts to fade, she continues staring at the woman with blonde hair and a wild goose laugh, feels herself falling more and more in love with her, affection inevitable.  

“Quite possibly,” Bernie eventually answers, looking right back at Serena, “should we get it checked on?”

“Eh.”


	7. it's like i've been awakened, every rule- i had you break it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena wonders what she did.  
> Where, in her life, did she do something abhorrent enough to warrant this kind of torture?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i've been a little absent, life of an english major leaves little room for fun. BUT i hope this chapter more than makes up for it!!! i loved writing it, so please enjoy!!!! title from a beyonce song because i CAN.

Serena wonders what she did.

Where, in her life, did she do something abhorrent enough to warrant this kind of torture?

It’s not like he’s a bad guy, he’s actually kind of sweet, but _good lord_ , he makes a terrible date. All he can do is drone on about work and his kids and work _again_ …

Serena’s actually quite proud of herself for not finding some lame excuse to get the hell out of here and retire home with a glass of Shiraz and a bad movie. She’s stilted out of her reverie when she realizes he’s expecting an answer to a question she didn’t hear.

“I’m sorry, what was it you just said?”

“I asked if you had any children.”

“Oh, I do. There’s Elinor, my daughter- “ but she’s promptly cut off by a husky timbre fast approaching from behind her.  

“Marcus, thank Jesus.” A woman with messy curls and long legs clad in black skinny jeans comes into view and sidles up to Marcus, her back to Serena. His face is a mask of surprise and annoyance, a question dangling from his lips for a few seconds before he finds his bearings.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been calling you non-stop.” The woman ignores his question and Serena raises an eyebrow, intrigued by this mysterious stranger. She’s surprised she’s not more irritated, but then again, this woman’s interruption has been the high point of tonight.

“I turned it off, because like I said earlier, I have a _date_.” The woman finally turns around then, and Serena is struck by the sheer beauty. She doesn’t have long to observe before the woman starts speaking to her, cutting off Serena’s scrutinization.

“So terribly sorry,” she says to Serena before turning back to Marcus, “but have you noticed you seem to be _missing something_?” She doesn’t think the mystery woman is sorry at all as she watches her hold out a black, worn wallet. Marcus looks surprised and pulls an almost identical wallet out of his pocket.

“Whose wallet do I have then?”

“ _Mine_.” The woman’s voice is tight and quiet, and Serena thinks she might be the most uncomfortable one here.

“Oh.” Marcus quickly exchanges wallets with her and the woman turns to face both of them, a false smile on her face.

“Well, have a good rest of your evening, sorry again for interrupting.” The unnamed woman scurries away from the table as quickly as her legs will take her, Serena watching her until her neck twinges from the angle. She looks back at Marcus, who has a sheepish look on his face and avoids her eyes.

“I’m terribly sorry, that was my ex-wife. I told you about her?”

“Oh yes. What was it you said? ‘She realized she was a lesbian a little later than would’ve been nice’?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

Serena files this information away, tries to focus on the words that are coming out of Marcus’ mouth. But she can’t attach sound, can’t attach meaning to the syllables and the meter that her ears are apparently processing. It could have been seconds, minutes, even hours later- she doesn’t know, but Marcus is once again looking at her, expecting an answer, except this time, she knows what he asked. There’s only a slight hesitation before she answers, brown eyes and slender fingers on her mind instead of the man in front of her.

“I’d love to.”

 

She absolutely does _not_ go on another date with Marcus just in hopes his ex-wife will crash it again. She doesn’t even know the woman’s _name_ , for god’s sake. And she _definitely_ is not disappointed when Marcus walks her to her car and there has been no sign of blonde hair and a pink coat. Her eyes are darting around the parking lot for any sign of her and yes, she feels absolutely foolish, but Serena finds she doesn’t care. So focused is she, that she barely registers Marcus is speaking to her once they’ve reached her car.

“I’ll be honest, Serena. I’m surprised you said yes to a second date.” His words catch her attention and she manages to return his stare.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“You just seemed so distracted. Uninterested, like your mind was somewhere else.”

“I’m terribly sorry, work has been so busy in the last few weeks, I’m a bit scatterbrained. Please forgive me.” She genuinely is sorry, she doesn’t mean to make Marcus feel unworthy of her attention, but she can’t help the fact that his ex-wife is far more fascinating than the mundane demeanor he manages to carry on his shoulders.

“It’s quite alright, Serena.”

For a second, she worries he’s going to try and kiss her, but he surprises her by asking her out for a third date instead.

And Serena _absolutely_ , does _not_ say yes while her eyes continue to search the cars surrounding them, a never-ending quest for somebody that is constantly out of reach. Marcus hugs her goodnight and her hands miss curves she’s never touched and skin she’s never caressed.

 

“What do you mean I need a co-lead?”

“I mean, _you need a co-lead_.” Serena thinks Hanssen has the closest thing to irritation he can manage flicking across his face.

“Henrik, I am perfectly capable of running my own ward. I’ve been managing thus far, haven’t I?” Her right eyebrow is raised, and she won’t be shackled down without a fight. Hanssen’s own eyebrow twitches in response.

“I have no doubt of your capabilities, Serena, but even I can see the toll it’s beginning to take. And with the addition of a trauma bay, I think it would be wise to enlist help from someone with outside experience in trauma and trauma-related facilities.” She can hear the sincerity in his tone and softens a bit, understanding his reasoning.

“Do I at least get a say in the hiring process?”

“You may review the CVs and select your top choices, but I will have the final say.”

Her other eyebrow matches the raised one and she wants to argue, to retort that he’s not the one who will have to spend every day working next to the person he chooses, but she keeps it in. It’s no use, and she trusts Henrik. For the most part. She trusts him enough to choose someone competent and hardworking and interesting.

 

She manages to make it to the restaurant only a couple of minutes late, coat and scarf billowing in the draft she creates as her legs work overtime to get her to the table Marcus is seated at in the corner. She kisses his cheek and sits down in the chair across from him, apology distended on her lips.

“I’m so sorry, Marcus. I was in a meeting and it ran a bit late.” She’s out of breath and he looks boring, wearing what looks like the same checkered shirt for the third date in a row.

“It’s quite alright. Busy day?” She takes off her scarf and coat as he pours the wine, and she tries not to wince at the cabernet sauvignon looking back at her. She’s tired, and she _really_ wanted him to get it right, just this once. Her voice is tired when she responds, and she doesn’t try to hide it.  

“You have no idea.”

“Oh, I think I do.” There’s a hidden meaning to his words, and for the first time, he’s piqued Serena’s interest and she finds herself asking why, despite the sense she feels he wanted to be asked.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Remember my ex-wife? She’s been a locum at St. James for the last few months and we’ve been amicable, but it just keeps getting more awkward.” How could Serena forget? His ex-wife barged into their first date and Serena’s life and she has yet to leave, worming her way into Serena’s every subconscious thought until she’s at the forefront. She feels absolutely insane, practically obsessing over a complete stranger, but there’s something about this unnamed woman that Serena feels drawn to. Her thoughts return to the present conversation and she sympathizes with Marcus. She remembers all too well what it was like working with Edward, although she feels wrong comparing him to the woman she doesn’t know and will likely never meet.

“It must be tough.”

“She actually just applied for a position at one of the other hospitals. Maybe it was Holby.” He’s joking of course, but Serena doesn’t think it’s funny. In fact, her heart stutters a beat, a slight murmur in the façade she’s built, at the thought of working with the very person she can’t stop wondering about.

 

“Oh, Serena, may I have a moment?”

She barely contains the eye roll when she hears Hanssen ask for her presence, already bored beyond belief by the end of another board meeting. His request is a demand, and she knows she has no other choice than to idle as she awaits what is probably going to be more unpleasant news.

“What can I do for you, Henrik?” Her tone is saccharine and it sounds false even to her own ears. She’s reaching the edge of the threshold for how much bullshit she can handle this week, and its only Wednesday. _Don’t push it, please don’t push it…_

“I just wanted to let you know your new co-lead is starting on Monday.”

“This _coming_ Monday?” She doesn’t get a response to her question, and Serena didn’t really expect to. She knows what day he means, but she doesn’t want to think about all the new challenges she’s going to have to face when this good-for-nothing new co-lead starts trying to run her ward.

“I hope you’ll agree that I chose the candidate who I thought would best compliment your skills and offer a new perspective on AAU.”

“So what you’re telling me is you hired my worst nightmare?” It’s sarcastic, but her worries are real. She’s already swamped and constantly overwhelmed, the last thing she needs is an ignorant ass-wipe thinking their opinion matters.

“You’re not going to make this a problem for me, are you Ms. Campbell?”

“I would _never_ , Mr. Hanssen.”

 

It takes four dates, but she finally finds herself growing fond of Marcus Dunn, but in a brotherly type of way. She’s sure she could actually like him given time and great efforts, but those are two things she can’t really afford right now. But she’s fond of him, and she thinks that’s enough for now, the continuing feeling of something missing is still small enough to go unnoticed by her mind.

“My new co-lead starts on Monday and I am dreading it with every fiber of my being.” She hears her voice getting more tired every time she sits down across a table from Marcus, like it’s trying to catch up to her body and brain.

“Don’t like him?”

“I actually have no idea who it is, not even a name. My boss hasn’t told me.” She doesn’t mention that she’s been too busy to even ask, doesn’t feel like defending herself to him.

“Well, I have some good news.” Serena feels the slightest irritation at his sudden change of subject and tries to ignore the realization he does this all the time.

“Oh?”

“My ex got the job she applied for, so no more awkward lift rides or tense consults.” There is a noticeable difference in the hold of his shoulders, the frown lines on his face. Serena smiles a little, wants to empathize with a man she doesn’t know for a reason she wants to disregard.

“There’s some happy news,” she raises her glass of Merlot in a toast, “here’s to us.”

“May we manage on.” He smiles as he sips his glass and she tries to contain the wince when a flavor she doesn’t like hits her tongue.

 

She’s late, Jason’s pissed, and her new co-lead is starting today. Serena Campbell is having the absolute _best day_ of her life.  

“Auntie Serena, I told you we were going to be late three times, and you didn’t even heed my warnings.” The coffee cup in her hand is barely warm enough to ward off her headache and growing anger towards the events of the day.

“And as I told _you_ three times, Jason, I’m sorry. I had a late night and I overslept.”

“Then I recommend you don’t stay out so late with Marcus, and therefore we won’t be late to work.”

“ _Jason_ …” They walk through doors of AAU and their conversation pauses as she nods to Fletch and Raf on her way to her office.

“Oh, Serena, wait-“ Fletch warns, but it’s too late. She opens the office door and she’s face-to-face with the very thing she’s been looking for and never finding.

“You-“

“-date my ex-husband-“

“-and now you’re-“

“-my new co-lead?”

There is a blonde woman with messy curls and black skinny jeans under a pink coat standing next to her desk and Serena can’t breathe. Arrythmia, tachycardia, not enough caffeine coursing through her veins. She feels all polite manners and societal courtesies disappearing from her brain as she  keeps staring into dark brown eyes and there’s a growing awareness that _this is weird. This is awkward_. _This shouldn’t be a thing that’s happening._

“Auntie Serena, I’m under the impression that this is your boyfriend’s ex-wife. The one you say he constantly complains about?” She forgot about Jason’s presence at her side until he spoke, and Serena can feel her entire body cringing.

“I’ll see you at six for dinner, Jason.” She practically pushes him out the door and prays he won’t say anything to further embarrass her new co-lead, whose cheeks are getting pinker by the minute. She turns back around and sees a tan hand sticking out, and Serena feels her heart constrict as she slides her palm against the other.

“Bernie Wolfe, trauma surgeon, and your new co-lead. I wish this was actually our first meeting because I fear the real one was less than a good impression.”

“Serena Campbell, vascular specialist, and don’t worry. I just hope you don’t often find yourself crashing first dates.”

“Definitely not. Just because I’m not going on dates doesn’t mean Marcus shouldn’t.” Bernie chuckles lightly and Serena wonders what her laugh sounds like. She feels wrong, for some reason, for talking about Marcus with Bernie. Not because she feels like she’s betraying Marcus, but because she doesn’t want to mix the part of her life with Marcus with the part of her life she can feel herself dedicating to Bernie. Part of her wants Bernie to crash every single one of her dates with Marcus but she doesn’t let herself contemplate why for too long.

“We look forward to having you on AAU, Ms. Wolfe. Welcome aboard.”

 

Her next date with Marcus is less than pleasant and Serena thinks she’s the only one of them who feels that way. She tries not to think about Bernie while staring at her ex-husband, but then she starts wondering when she started referring to Marcus as Bernie’s ex-husband. There’s a lull in the conversation as he finishes a story about another broken femur and she uses the opportunity to broach the subject she’s been keen to discuss.

“My new co-clinical lead started this week. I think you’ll find them to be very interesting.”

“Do I know him?” Of course he assumes it’s a man, and she bristles a bit, but she backs down and lets it slide off her shoulders and down her back. It’s a fight to be picked another day.

“I believe you do.”

“What’s his name?” And _goddamn_ she really wishes he would stop assuming the gender, but Serena thinks it will probably make the reveal even more shocking.

“Bernie Wolfe.” She was right. His mouth hangs open for a few seconds before he regains his footing and manages to form a sentence.

“ _What_? Bernie Wolfe as in my _ex-wife_ Bernie Wolfe?” She barely knows the woman, but she already wants to come to her defense. Serena doesn’t like the way he says her name, like she’s a nuisance to be dealt with, an obstacle to overcome.

“I believe that’s the one. It came as quite a shock to both of us as well. We had no idea.” Speaking on behalf of Bernie doesn’t feel quite as unusual as she thought it would. Serena thinks she could speak about Bernie for the rest of her life, but she doesn’t know what that means.

“Is this going to make things uncomfortable between us?” So lost in her thoughts for the trauma surgeon, she forgot Marcus was in front of her. Serena doesn’t really understand why he would think this would make things uncomfortable, it’s not like he’s the one working with Bernie anymore.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want this to affect us.” The words sound wrong coming from his mouth. She doesn’t like the way he says _us_ , like they’re an item, a unit to behold. _Marcus and Serena. Serena and Marcus_. She doesn’t want to be attached to him. She doesn’t want their names to follow each other.

“It won’t.” The words come out of her mouth and this time she recognizes the lie in them.

 

Working with Bernie Wolfe is the most infuriating, excruciating, and rewarding experience of Serena’s life. Hanssen was right, she challenges Serena, offers a perspective she never would have thought of. Their individual skill sets compliment each other so well Serena would even dare to call them soulmates.

Work soulmates, of course.

Friendly, platonic soulmates that definitely don’t gaze at each other or wonder what the other one’s lips feel like.

Definitely not.

Except Serena does wonder what Bernie’s lips would feel like on her own and she doesn’t really understand what’s happening with her own feelings. From the moment she first saw Bernie, the woman has plagued her mind. She is disease ridden with a bad case of the Wolfe and instead of drowning, she feels more alive. She needs a confidant, someone to help her work through her emotions. Unfortunately, there’s only one person she trusts enough to discuss this with, and it’s going to be nothing less than embarrassing.

“Serena are you alright?” Bernie walks into their office and immediately overrides Serena’s senses, everything homing in on her. She realizes that she’s been staring at nothing for an indiscernible amount of time and feels her face flush under Bernie’s gaze.

“Hmm?” She can’t form words yet, it’s too early in the morning for Bernie to look at her like that. All brooding eyes and deep frowns, it’s absolutely fucking adorable.

“You seem a little out of it this morning.”

“Oh, my apologies. Long night.”

“Did you go out with Marcus again?” Serena blanches and feels her shackles raise, defenses armed and ready. She doesn’t want Bernie thinking she went out with Marcus last night. She doesn’t want Bernie thinking she goes out with Marcus at _all_ , but a traitorous voice inside her head reminds her she _does_.

“No, why?”

“Sorry, I just assumed.” Bernie shrugs, but looks like she wants to say something else. Serena lets it slide, knows that asking Bernie to say what’s on her mind will get the exact opposite result. She rises from her chair and slides past Bernie, tries to let the woman’s warmth and sunshine seep into her tired bones. Bernie makes her marrow strong again, an infusion of calcium and heat, osteoporosis be gone.

 

“Ric, stop _laughing_.” They’re in a bar, but not Albie’s, because Serena doesn’t think discussing your co-worker is appropriate to do with said co-worker around. She wouldn’t be able to concentrate even if Bernie wasn’t there, because Albie’s is infested with the very essence of her. The scent of clean linen and plain shampoo is infused into the seats, the amber of Bernie’s favorite whiskey is branded onto the table tops. But now Ric is laughing at her and she wants the ground to swallow her up, glass of Shiraz included.  

“I’m sorry, I just can’t believe you’re dating _Marcus Dunn_.” He sounds absolutely delighted, like he’s taking pleasure from her desperation. She’s pretty sure he is. 

“Please don’t remind me.”

“If you’re so put off by the idea, then why the hell are you even doing it?” He asks the exact question that has been on Serena’s mind since she got herself into this mess. She may not be able to figure out her own feelings, but what she does know is that there is a very important reason she kept going on dates with Marcus. It has something to do with Bernie, she just doesn’t know what. 

“That’s the thing…”

“What are you not telling me?”

“When we were on our first date, we got interrupted by his ex-wife.”

“And?” Ric looks disappointed, like he expected more from her. She can’t help it if she can’t be on her fifth husband, always ready to put a ring on yet another. She could die never being married again and be perfectly fine.

“His ex-wife is Bernie.”

“Bernie? As in, your co-lead and world-renowned ex-army trauma surgeon Bernie?” And now he looks mirthful again, like a kid in the candy store who just found his favorite.

“The very same.”

“What a coincidence. But what has that got to do with anything?” Serena came to him for clarity, but she’s starting to feel like the one doing the clarifying. Why can’t he just understand what she’s trying to say and _get on with it._ She sighs and resists the urge to hit him.

“Ever since she showed up at that restaurant, I haven’t been able to get her off my mind, Ric. I find myself thinking about her all the time, and I don’t know why.”

“Do you like Marcus?” His question seems unprecedented, and despite her surprise, her mouth answers without hesitation.

“He’s fine.”

“That’s not what I asked, Serena.” He tilts his head, an imploration. She’s been caught, and she doesn’t have an explanation. Ric knows she doesn’t like Marcus, but she couldn’t tell him why she’s still seeing him.

“No, I don’t think I do.”

“I think I know what’s going on here.” Serena expected him to ask why, but instead he seems to have something substantial for the first time tonight. She tries to keep the eagerness out of her eyes, but her voice betrays her.

“You do?” He nods solemnly and looks down, and she feels like he’s about to diagnose her with a terminal illness, but then he looks back at her and smiles gently. She waits for him to answer, and she regards him with uncertainty.

“You like Bernie.” _What the fuck_ does he mean she likes Bernie? That’s insane. Absolutely ludicrous. Never in a million years.

“What? No. That’s ridiculous. I’m straight.”

“Are you?” He asks her but sounds like he already knows the answer, and Ric looks at her like she should too. Is she straight? Or has Bernie awakened a dormant part of her that is insisting on breaking free? Can latent lesbianism affect anybody? The questions whirl around her brain and she knows the answer to all of them, every single one with a common denominator, a defining factor. They all lead her back to Bernie Wolfe, army medic of her dreams. She looks at Ric and she knows that he knows that she knows.

She’s in love.

 

“Are you and Marcus friendly?” They’re doing paperwork in their office, but Serena can’t concentrate. Bernie changed into her street clothes after their last surgery, a rare occurrence, and she keeps getting distracted by collarbones and tight trousers. She didn’t mean to put a voice to the question, but lately she’s been asking more and more questions she never would have asked before… before Bernie.

“Why do you ask that?” Bernie hasn’t looked up from the file she’s working on and Serena knows she doesn’t want to talk about it, but she can’t tell if it’s because she’s uncomfortable or just busy. She decided to back down anyways, let the conversation die. She turns back to the files on her own desk and offers an out.

“Just wondering.”

But Bernie doesn’t take it.

Instead she leans back in her chair and regards Serena carefully, as if she’s trying to pick out her words with careful reproach.

“I guess you could say we are. He doesn’t talk about you with me, if that’s what you’re asking. I think he prefers to keep us separate in his mind.” Serena doesn’t respond, just slowly nods her head and looks back at her paperwork under the pretense of finishing. Her thoughts, however, are focused on anything but the papers in front of her face. She can’t tell if she’s happy or let down by Bernie’s answer. She doesn’t really like the thought of Marcus feeling righteous enough to discuss her outside of the their increasingly infrequent dates. But she likes the thought of her and Bernie somehow being attached, like their names are supposed to follow each other. _Bernie and Serena. Serena and Bernie._

Serena goes home that night determined to have a conversation she never should have been able to have in the first place. She picks up her phone and dials a number she still has to reference.

“Marcus? We need to talk.”

 

They’re walking to Albie’s, the cold wind threatening their body composition and pushing them together. To preserve heat, of course. Bernie has something on her mind, something she wants to say, and Serena waits it out. They’re two steps from the door when Bernie finally spits it out.

“Are you taking Marcus?” Serena pauses and chances a glance, notices a flare in the eyes of her friend and tries to discern what it is.

“Taking Marcus to what?”

“That charity ball thing.” A light bulb flickers and she knows its jealousy written across Bernie’s face. She doesn’t dare wonder why, hope is false more often than not.

“Are you going?”

“Hanssen has informed me it’s mandatory, yes.” She looks put out, and Serena knows she hates anything that requires more than skinny jeans or scrubs.

“It’ll be nice to have a friendly face by my side, then.” They walk over the threshold as Bernie smiles, warmth seeping into their skin and close proximity is no longer required, but Serena instantly misses the heat of Bernie’s body. They find a table that forces them back together, thighs touching and arms brushing, and Serena is grateful for the conspiracies of the universe. Bernie goes to the bar for their drinks, comes back armed with wine and whiskey.

“So you’re not taking Marcus?” Serena hesitates, she didn’t think Bernie would be persistent on the subject.

“What? Oh, no.” Bernie nods and lets the subject drop, preferring to talk about something else. Serena feels a dichotomy as she talks to Bernie, continues talking to her while thinking about the jealousy that was painfully obvious moments before.

She’s not taking Marcus because the more she’s around Bernie, the more she sees the luminary soul that lingers every time she walks out of a room, the light she leaves behind. She is a creature in the murky depths of the Bay of Bengal, creating her own light to survive. Bio-luminescence. She is a sunflower on the highest point of Mount Greylock, constantly facing the Massachusetts sun, never wandering. But then again, the more time Serena spends around Bernie, the more she realizes Bernie doesn’t chase the sun.

Bernie _is_ the sun.

A halo of golden light spilling forth onto the surface in which she resides. She’s the Mariana Trench, the highest point and the lowest depth this universe has to offer. She is Serena’s drunk nights and sentimental mornings, her garden of Eden and World War I fighter pilots. Bernie is her speech’s syntax and her religion’s rosary. Serena finds herself waiting for a revolution, ready for anarchy and agnosticism. Suddenly weddings aren’t so scary and forever doesn’t seem daunting. 

Serena finds herself believing in things that don’t exist because Bernie Wolfe has rattled her through the mantle and to the iron core.

 

Serena didn’t have time to wonder about what Bernie would wear, too concerned about her own outfit, but nothing could have prepared her for what she was looking at right now. The tailored suit, a color of onyx Serena is growing more fond of the longer she stares. Top two buttons undone, untied bow tie hanging around the neck she’s been longing to touch, to feel. It all feels a bit too much, like she’s being suffocated by the beauty she’s beholding. But her reverie is broken by a flash of brown hair out of the corner of her eye, and she turns to see Marcus. Bernie stalls on her way over to Serena, and changes directions to the bar. Marcus approaches her, and she feels her resolve waning.

“Serena! I didn’t know you would be here.”

“Marcus, so nice to see you.” They’re amicable, maybe even friendly acquaintances. Bad blood isn’t warranted, she made sure it was a peaceful parting of ways. She knows it was possible because she never explained why she didn’t see him as more than a friend, didn’t want to break his heart by explaining his wife’s cause for Serena’s sapphic mid-life awakening. They chat, but she keeps a close eye on Bernie. Serena can practically feel the jealousy radiating off of Bernie in waves, a tsunami of emotions she hopes is more than animosity. But the more she talks to Marcus, the more Bernie backs away. She can sense Bernie closing off, resigning herself, because she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know that Serena loves her, has loved her since the moment she pulled out a black leather wallet as Serena sipped on a pinot grigio Marcus chose.

The final straw comes when Marcus kisses her on the cheek as a goodbye. Bernie bolts from the bar and heads towards the balcony, and Serena all but runs after her. She steps outside, and Bernie is facing away from her, tense shoulders and stiff back indicating hurt. She doesn’t know how to explain what’s going on, how to tell Bernie she’s in love with her, so she settles for the truth.

“I’ve never been more than friends with a woman, and you’ve terrified the life out of me. From the first moment I met you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, and I know now that I never want to stop.” Bernie doesn’t acknowledge her, just keeps staring out over the garden terrace. It’s a few seconds of silence before she responds, before Serena can exhale the breath she’s been holding.

“What about Marcus?”

“I broke up with him.” Bernie finally turns around and Serena gasps, can’t quite comprehend the adoration and desire she sees.

“What? Why?”

“Jesus Christ, Bernie, have you not been listening to me? I think the only reason I kept going out with him was because I was hoping you would crash another one of our dates.” They’re closer than they were, and Serena doesn’t remember stepping forward.

“Really?” The sheer hope in those two syllables takes her breathe away, and Bernie may not be able to voice it, not yet, but Serena finally knows Bernie loves her back.

“If you hadn’t switched wallets with him in that restaurant, I don’t think I would have ever seen him again after that night.”

“Why did you?” There’s hurt laced in her tone, and Serena hates that she put it there. She wants the undertones of Bernie’s voice to be filled with fondness, the overtones with tenderness. She keeps spilling her truth, knows that Bernie deserves nothing less. Serena can only hope she’ll listen to her sermon on love, believe every word. She can feel Bernie yearning for it.

“Because I wanted to see you again, and I thought if I kept him in close proximity, it meant that you would be around too. And then you started working on AAU.”

“But you continued to see him after I started at Holby.” There’s a bite to her words this time, a disdain Serena understands all too well.

“At first, I didn’t even know what it was I was feeling for you. I had to enlist the help of outside resources to figure out that I bloody _love_ you. I don’t know why I still dated Marcus after you started. I think I felt it was the only connection I had to you outside of work, which is something I craved so desperately. I wanted something to tether us together besides the trauma bay, but I did the worst thing I could to do so. I was wrong, and I didn’t even know it.”

“Serena…” They’re so close now, one more step and they would be touching, forever stuck in each other’s orbit. One more step, and gravity would never let them part again.

“I don’t care for Marcus, Bernie. I never have. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

When she _finally_ finds out what Bernie’s lips feel like, Serena feels her salvation begin, a rapture for the ages. Prologues, stanzas, epilogues, and elegies, rolled into one glorious novel of Berenice Griselda Wolfe’s handwriting.


	8. there was something in the air that night, the stars were bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Berenice Wolfe, you can’t take points from Slytherin just because I beat you in Wizard’s Chess. Don’t punish my House just because you’re a sore loser.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> none of this is plausible, in this world, or in JK Rowling's, but i love to take liberties. i mixed a harry potter au and a "we just caught our alternate universe selves making out and now everything is super awkward" au. like i said, liberties, because this is not exactly that. close, but not exactly. enjoy my trash, hopefully it makes somebody's day.
> 
> title is from an ABBA song and if you know which one, i'll marry you.

“Berenice Wolfe, you can’t take points from Slytherin _just_ because I beat you in Wizard’s Chess. Don’t punish my House just because you’re a sore loser.”

“Serena McKinnie, I would _never_. And what do you have to say for _yourself_?” They’re in the Potions classroom with the intention of finishing a stack of essays that need to be graded, but Serena heard about Bernie’s reprimand towards a couple of Slytherins students earlier and feels the need to hash things out.  

“What _ever_ do you mean?” Serena looks offended at Bernie’s implication, mouth hanging open and eyebrows knitted together.

“Just last week you took ten points from Gryffindor because I got a coffee without bringing you one! How’s that for pot calling the kettle black? Don’t punish _my_ House just because you’re entitled.”

“We have an _agreement_.”

“I _forgot_.”

Bernie swings her arms out in frustration and accidentally knocks over some of the items on Serena’s desk to the floor. She crouches down to pick them up, an apology already hanging off her lips, when a flash of gold catches her eye. She turns towards it to see… _a Time Turner? Serena has a Time Turner?_

But it’s spinning, somehow activated when Bernie knocked it off the desk. She looks back at Serena just in time to see the Potions classroom morph and blend together, people whirring about them. But none of it is familiar, none of it Bernie recognizes as events that have already happened.

The last thing she sees before passing out is brown eyes that reflect her own terror and confusion.

 

_Two Weeks Earlier_

Serena doesn’t mean to be flighty around Bernie, she can’t help it. Bernie just seems to be everywhere all of a sudden, and Serena can’t quite catch her breath anymore. She honestly doesn’t know how it took her this long to figure it out. She’s usually so in tune with her own feelings, can decipher exactly what she’s feeling at any given moment despite the circumstances. But somehow, without her even noticing, Bernie Wolfe swooped into her heart and hasn’t left. Serena doesn’t think she ever will, if she’s being honest. And it’s terrifying, falling for your best friend like this. Falling for your best friend who is a _woman_ , of all things.

It’s not like that’s a problem, per se, and it’s not a deciding factor. She likes Bernie and Bernie just happens to be a woman. No, that wasn’t the problem. The issue was realizing just how _much_ she liked Bernie. The depth of her feelings run like an undercurrent, eroding a canyon that was previously left untouched in the walls of Serena’s heart. It’s roaring and it’s unrelenting and Serena is scared of what it all means.

She’s scared that Bernie doesn’t return her feelings, because she’s sure that would be the thing to break her most.

 

_Present_

“Bernie? Bernie, wake up.” For a second, Bernie keeps her eyes closed and revels in the feel of Serena’s hand, warm on her cheek. Curiosity gets the better of her though, and she opens her eyes to find Serena looking down at her, crouched on the ground.

“What happened?” Her voice is hoarse, like she hasn’t used it in days. She sits up with the aid of Serena’s hand between her shoulder blades and looks around. They’re still in Serena’s classroom, everything looks the same. It’s eerie, and she feels like they shouldn’t be here. She doesn’t like the quiet surrounding them, it’s almost more daunting than the brick walls and high windows indicating its dark outside.

“I think you when you knocked the Time Turner off the desk it started up.” Bernie looks back at Serena and sees her own feelings mirrored.

“Do you know how far back we went? No more than five hours, right?” She stands up and looks around some more, trying to gauge what time of day it is so she can avoid her and Serena’s past selves. When Serena doesn’t answer her question, she turns around and sees her looking away, biting her lip and face worried.

“Um, we didn’t exactly go back in time…”

“What do you mean? That’s what a Time Turner does, it sends you to the past.”

“Not this Time Turner.” Bernie pauses, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Something is wrong, seriously wrong. Serena is avoiding her eyes and she still feels out of place. Even when she used a Time Turner as an Auror, she never felt like she didn’t belong, because she _did_ belong in the past. She had already lived the events she was re-witnessing. _Unless_ …

“Serena… what do you mean ‘ _not this Time Turner_?’”

“Remember when I had that meeting with the Ministry last month? Well, they enlisted my help for a new experimental Time Turner. They thought I could help considering…” She trails off and Bernie’s internal alarms start to go off, skyrocketing. She’s never seen Serena look this scared and everything feels _wrong_.

“An experimental Time Turner? Considering what? What are you not telling me?” Bernie feels angry. Serena has been hiding something? She thought they were friends, _best_ friends even. She’s never been as close to someone as she is with Serena, and she feels a hot burn of betrayal in her throat, scorching down to her very bones.

“Bernie, please don’t be mad. I wasn’t allowed to tell you, not only for my protection, but for yours.” None of this makes sense and Serena is saying words that don’t mean anything. Bernie feels lightheaded, like she might pass out again.

“Serena, what the hell is going on?”

“I used to work for the Department of Mysteries.” The bomb drops, and Bernie feels her knees buckle, has to stagger towards a desk a few feet away to hold herself up. Serena rushes to her side but doesn’t touch her, but her hands are suspended in mid-air like she wants to. She looks worried and it does nothing to calm Bernie’s racing heart. Serena was an Unspeakable. Serena worked for the Department of Mysteries, the most prestigious and well-kept secret in all of the Wizarding World, studying the most difficult concepts in the universe. Why is she here? Why is she at Hogwarts? Why does Bernie feel like her heart is going to implode?

“What?” Bernie’s voice is barely above a whisper, and she’s finding it difficult to keep her eyes focused. She tries to look at Serena, but there are dots blurring her vision and _damn_ , she does not feel well. She needs to sit down, she really needs to sit-

“They needed my expertise with a new Time Turner. Instead of going backwards, this one goes-“

“Don’t say forward. So help me God, Serena, please don’t tell me we’re in the future.” She doesn’t think her body or brain can handle that right now, everything feels like a bit too much as it is. But Serena’s face is grim and now they can only accept their situation for what it is. They can only accept that they’re _fucked_.

“Bernie, this is extremely dangerous. I have no idea how far forward in time we went, and we have no idea where either of us are right now.” She’s mad and she doesn’t want to need Serena right now, but Bernie is swaying and grabbing Serena’s shoulders to keep herself upright. She looks into her eyes to try and stay grounded, but the fear and concern there only furthers Bernie’s ailments.

“Serena, if anybody sees us, it could change the timeline. It could…” She trails off because she really doesn’t want to finish that sentence, she really doesn’t want to put words to this.

“Kill us, I know.”

But Serena said it and now Bernie feels her body slump, mind going blank, and vision going black. Serena’s hands on her waist is the last thing she remembers.

 

_One Week Earlier_

Things with Serena seemed… off. Bernie can’t quite put a finger on it, but she seems more jumpy, timid even. Lately, whenever she brings Serena her morning coffee before their first round of classes, there’s an avoidance of eye contact, none of the usual shoulder brushes or hand grasps that follow. They fight all the time now too, over the most trivial of things. _You can’t teach third years that spell, they’re too young; nobody has used that potion in three centuries, there’s no point in testing them on it._ It’s wrong. It’s weird. They haven’t argued this much since they both started teaching at Hogwarts and were both made Head of Houses, a natural war being created between them. But Bernie thought they were over that, had moved on from the animosity and were in full bloom of a close and rewarding friendship, in the process of building a bridge to lessen the divide between Gryffindors and Slytherins.

If Bernie weren’t confident in her own abilities to mask her emotions, she would think Serena would have figured her out, that she somehow sensed how Bernie feels about her, how impossibly attracted to Serena she is. How much she loves Serena. 

But that’s impossible. And Serena can never, _ever_ , know.

_Present_

The first thing Bernie notices when she comes to the second time around is the absence of Serena’s warm hand on her cheek.

Instead, it’s grabbing her own hand…

…and hauling her ass up off the floor.

“Bernie, if we’re going to find our way out of this mess, I _really_ need you to stop passing out like that.”

“And I’m _really_ going to need you to stop dropping bombshells.” Serena helps her sit in a nearby chair and Bernie feels exhausted. Every last bit of energy and strain of vigor has left her body, abandoning her in her time of need. Serena sits next to her and grabs her hand again, tracing the lines of her palm delicately, suddenly serious. Bernie patiently waits, lets Serena do her bidding and find the wherewithal to explain herself.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Like I told you before you passed out, _again_ , I wasn’t allowed to tell you. For both our sakes.”

“I understand.” She expects them to continue on with their figuring out their problem, but Serena’s face is still covered in aguish and Bernie knows she needs to let this out. Serena needs the cathartic nature of her own words almost more than Bernie needs them.

“Bernie, please don’t think there was ever a day where I didn’t want to tell you everything. Don’t think there was ever a day I didn’t want to stop feeling like I was deceiving you. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want anything jeopardizing that.”

“Serena, really, it’s okay. I understand. It was out of your hands, you were just following orders. I’m not mad, you just took me by surprise.”

“It doesn’t make me any less sorry.” The anguish is still there, mixing in with a sort of longing Bernie knows all too well.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I-“ The sound of children in the hallways cuts off her words. Bernie pulls Serena from her seat and to her feet, every last one of her Auror instincts kicking in and into overdrive. Her wand is out and ready before Serena even realizes they’re moving, trailing behind Bernie with panic written all over her face.

“We need to go, _now_.”

 

_Five Days Earlier_

“Serena?”

“Hmm?”

“Have I done something wrong?”

“Why would you think that?” Serena looks up from her copy of _The Daily Prophet_ , focuses her attentions on Bernie, glasses perched on her nose. Bernie feels her heart constrict, didn’t think it was possible to love this woman anymore, but then she goes and starts wearing glasses. She realizes that Serena is still waiting for a response and sighs. 

“It’s just that… never mind.” She lets it go, knows there’s no use in worrying over something so trivial and probably unrelated to her. Not everything in Serena’s life, revolves around her, she knows that, but she can’t shake the feeling that she’s done _something_.

“Bernie, if you have something to say, just say it.” An ember flickers, Bernie’s agitation immediately raising at the remark. She tries to keep her calm, not looking for a fight tonight. She just wanted to eat her jellybeans and drink her butterbeer while pretending not to stare at those stupid glasses. Those stupid, cute glasses.

“It’s fine, I have nothing to say, I changed my mind.”

“Bernie.”

“ _Serena_.” The ember is building, growing, burning to life. If Serena wants a fight, a fight is what she’ll get.

“You are so _infuriating_.” A fire bursts forth, consumes Bernie’s heart and tears through her soul. She stands and paces as she nearly shouts at Serena for a problem she caused but is not responsible for. She loves Serena so goddamn much, and she can’t do anything about it. It’s Bernie’s own personal Hell, an eternal damnation she created herself.

“And _you_ can’t let anything go.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Serena stands with her and looks almost more confused than angry. Bernie feels the fire extinguish almost quicker than it started, remorse and contrition replacing every inch of ash left behind.

“Nothing. It’s supposed to mean nothing.”

She doesn’t tell Serena what she meant, that she can’t let Bernie’s heart go. Serena doesn’t know, and Bernie doesn’t tell her.

 

_Present_

“Where are we going?” Bernie is still pulling her along the corridors of the castle and trying to avoid any contact with anything that might disrupt the timeline.

“No clue.” Serena rolls her eyes and tries to keep up with her companion’s pace, long legs be damned.

“Lord, help me.”

“Now is really not the time to judge my life-saving abilities.”

“I’m not judging, I’m just- oh wait, in here.” Another roll of her eyes helps her spot a shelter of safety to the side, and she pulls on Bernie’s hand to get her to stop.

“Serena, is this-“

“The Room of Requirement.” She doesn’t wait for Bernie to catch up on her intentions and pushes the door open only to stop dead in her tracks. She feels Bernie bump into her and it jostles her mind enough to pull them back and pull the door closed. She recognized she blonde curls almost as quickly as she recognized what they were doing. Bernie is still right behind her, all tension and panic. They stay there, staring at the door, trying to comprehend what is going on behind it. Scratch that, Serena _knows_ what’s going on behind it, she’s just trying to understand how. Well, she knows _how_ -

She’s trying to understand why. Bernie inhales slowly, a question accompanying the exhale.

“Serena, was that?”

“Yes, Bernie, I think it was.”

“And were we?”

“Yes, we were.”

When Serena imagined herself finding out if Bernie returned her feelings, this is most definitely _not_ what she expected.

 

They’re in the first-floor girl’s bathrooms, and Bernie is pacing so quickly in front of the sinks it’s giving her a headache.

“Bernie, please stop pacing, you’re giving me a headache.”

“Stop pacing? _Stop pacing_? Serena, you _do_ realize what we just saw, right? And there’s also the fact that we are still stuck in the _literal_ foreseeable future for an indeterminable amount of time.”

“Right, okay, it does makes things a tad more difficult.” Bernie stops pacing and faces Serena, anxiety seeping out of her and onto the tiles. Serena almost picks it up, but she knows one of them has to stay calm.

“Oh really? Hadn’t realized.”

“It is not an appropriate time to be cheeky, Ms. Wolfe.” Bernie’s face hardens, mouth set in a firm line. She looks Serena dead in the eye and is the first one to put words to what they saw happening in the Room of Requirement.  

“Sorry, I didn’t know there were guidelines on how to react when you catch your future-self snogging her best friend.” There’s something about her words, something about the label that doesn’t sit well with Serena. She feels a little defeated and more than tired, and she knows she’s never loved Bernie more than in this very moment. The entire world and its timeline is crashing down around them but it’s okay, because she loves Bernie.

“Is that…” Serena hesitates and trails off, scared to ask the question she needs the answer to.

“Is that what?”

“Nothing.” Bernie tilts her head, a small gesture that tells Serena just how much Bernie thinks that’s bullshit. A pointed look accompanies it and Serena knows this will not be let go.

“Have you been taking advice from my conversation survival guide? It’s obviously something.”

“Is that all you see me as? You’re best friend?” She bites the bullet, lets the cat out of the bag, and rips her heart out of her chest and thrusts it into Bernie’s hands. A waiting game of her own making in the seconds it takes Bernie to form a response, her own personal form of torment.

“I’m not sure I understand the question.” Of course Bernie is clueless, _of course_. She asks the question of the century and Bernie doesn’t even know what she means. If Serena didn’t know her so well, she would think Bernie is faking her obliviousness.

“Looks like you need to update your survival guide.”

“Serena.”

“Sorry, force of habit.” There’s a splash of water to her left and sees Moaning Myrtle pop out of one of the toilets, silently observing their conversation. Odd, for Myrtle, but Serena appreciates it.

“She’s asking if you love her.” Well, she _was_ silent, until now.

“Butt out, Myrtle.” Serena holds back a laugh at Bernie’s comment and instead fixes Myrtle with a glare that leaves no room for retaliation.

“I’m trying to think about death, can you just realize you love each other and get out of my bathroom? I can’t wallow in peace with you two here.” She floats out of the toilet and perches herself in front of the high window. Before she can hurl an insult, Bernie brings her back to their discussion.

“Is that true? Do you... feel that way about me?” It’s a whisper, a question barely given a voice. She notices the vulnerability displayed on Bernie’s face, and _this_ is now the moment when she’s never loved Bernie more.

“I don’t think there’s been a day since we met that I haven’t loved you.” Bernie smiles, small at first but slowly growing. Happiness is starting to radiate off her in waves, wrapping around them and pulling them closer together.

“What about that day I spilled butterbeer on your favorite pair of robes?”

“Really?”

“Sorry, force of habit.” And God, this is the woman Serena is choosing to spend the rest of her life with, this is the woman Serena is choosing to love forever. This messy, endearing, sometimes unaware piece of work that she will never tire of beholding. But then again, Serena doesn’t really think she chose to love Bernie like this. It’s too strong, too powerful to be anything but inevitable. Kismet and destiny and fate all led up to this moment. She can feel it in her bones; a prophecy is being fulfilled.

When Bernie finally kisses Serena in the present tense, she is so focused on the feeling of soft lips that she doesn’t even realize she nudges the Time Turner around Serena’s neck. Neither of them realize the world start to spin around them, time righting itself and sending them back to where they belong. Neither of them realize, so engrossed on the feel of each other and bathing in the fresh light of a new beginning.

 

_Two Weeks Later_

Her hand is starting to sneak its way up Serena’s side, under layers of robes and shirts on top of smooth skin. Her lips are trailing a path of desire down the side of Serena’s neck, whispering sweet nothings that mean everything. They don’t bother to stop when they hear the door open abruptly and close just as quickly. They don’t stop until their sweaty and spent, satiated for the time being. Serena is drawing patterns on her back when she breaks the silence with something other than moans of affection and shouts of pleasure.

“Was that them?”

“I believe so.”

“What do you think they’re doing now?” Serena quirks her eyebrow and smiles softly, remembering the quiet moment in the bathroom when everything fell into place.

“Finally figuring it out.”

Bernie doesn’t give it much more thought, her attention on Serena’s mouth replacing her hand.


	9. i wanted to love you 'til my living was through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie Wolfe buries Serena Campbell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quite possibly the angstiest thing i've ever written, but not to worry, i'm still a hopeless romantic. fleetwood mac just knows how to put me in my feels, man. enjoy yet another piece of my garbage, i hope it makes you feel things.  
> song title from "(even if you're) not my girl" by zac clark, because how fitting?

Bernie Wolfe buries Serena Campbell.

Bernie Wolfe tells Serena Campbell they should keep it confined to theatre and they don’t kiss again, and they never go on a date and it’s all at a bit of a standstill. Everything is a bit awkward and the conversations are a little stilted but eventually they regain their footing. Bernie wants some of Serena rather than none at all, and she knows she would eventually mess it up- it, them, all of it. She loves her so much and sometimes she feels like the scar on her sternum is breaking open again and she has to hold it in place, hold back all of the things her body is forcing her to feel. Sometimes Bernie thinks it would be less painful to get blown up again, but then she catches Serena’s eye across the ward and she knows she will choose her any day. Serena is a treasure, the ultimate God in Bernie’s book of revelations and she cannot bear to lose her, but she cannot let herself gain anything more than what she has, what she has earned.

Bernie Wolfe buries Serena Campbell, and she tries not to die while doing it.

 

Every week is a little easier, and every week Bernie gets a little better at telling herself it’s okay. Every week she believes the lie she’s telling herself a little more.

Serena brings her coffee in the morning and she buys them dinner in the evenings and everything feels okay. It’s not perfect, Bernie doubts it ever will be. Not while she still yearns for a hand she can never hold and a love she can never have. It’s not perfect, but it’s okay.

They’re friends, and Bernie likes to think they always will be. She did this so that prospect would be possible, and she tries not to let herself regret that decision every time Serena throws a smile her way or brushes a hand against her shoulder. She tries to keep her love at bay, tries to bury it underneath everything else. She never had good housekeeping skills, why would she start compartmentalizing her feelings now?

Nothing is perfect, but everything is okay.

 

Hanssen brings her salvation at nine in the morning on a Tuesday, and she takes the first deep breath she’s taken in weeks.

She loves Serena, but it’s all becoming a bit too much, because she is everywhere and around her all the time. Her smiles and her laughs and her hands are always finding Bernie, always providing a comfort she doesn’t think she deserves, because she kissed Serena and threatened the precious balance of their friendship. She has vowed to never do it again, but Serena just makes it so goddamn _hard_. She wonders, sometimes, what would happen if she gave in, if she let herself be happy, if she let _them_ be happy.

But she only lets herself think like this when she is alone at night, in an empty bed in an empty flat. Dark and desolate, and she can’t help but find some type of comfort in it. She can’t afford to think like that in the light of day though, not when Serena hands her a latte with a double shot and an expression on her face akin to adoration.

No, she can’t afford to think like that.

Serena suffocates her with a friendship and a love she can never really have and it’s not helping the vow Bernie is trying not to break. The more she smiles at Bernie, the more forgiving she is of Bernie, the more Bernie falls in love with her and the more her heart is split in two. Two warring halves of a damaged heart. A heart that has been split open and put back together with somebody else’s hands. It is threatening to fall apart again, a part of her wanting to run all the way to Serena and tell her everything she wants and everything Serena means to her, but the part of her that is scared always wins out.

Sometimes not by much, but it always does.

So when Hanssen hands her a glossy folder with a foreign country’s name plastered across it, she takes her first deep breath in weeks.

 

When Bernie tells Serena about the secondment, it almost hurts how unaffected she seems.

But Bernie is the one who did this to them and she’s the one who pulled the brakes on them before they even started the engine, key barely in the ignition, so she cannot blame Serena. _I’d rather you didn’t go_ sounds like a siren call in the dead of night, _I doubt we’d get a locum with your experience_ is the sound of her ship crashing against the rocks with the lighthouse beam gone out and her heart wilting inside. Serena leaves her that day with a mess of moral ambiguity and a tight lipped smile.

The next day Bernie leaves, and she tries not to feel hurt about unaffected Serena is.

 

Three weeks into her secondment she finds out what she really means to Serena.

She receives a call and she reaches out to grab her phone on the coffee table, searching blindly from where she lays on the couch and trying not to overthink every decision she’s ever made in her life.

_Hello?_

_Bernie, it’s me._

_Serena?_

_The one and only._

And she’s right, Serena is the one and only for Bernie, the one and only thing she may never have.  

Serena tells her about AAU and the trauma unit, how Fletch and Raf are more conniving than ever and how Morven is still flourishing. Serena complains about the WWII documentary Jason made her watch and her voice lights up about a particularly tasteful Shiraz she tried the other night. _And how did you come across such a fine tasting wine? Obviously not Albie’s._ She meant it as playful banter, continuing the fashion in which they have always spoken (it’s not flirting, it’s not), but Serena suddenly hesitates, and Bernie feels her stomach drop.

_No, you’re right, not Albie’s. I had it with dinner at a restaurant._

_Oh?_

_On a date._

_Oh._

Three weeks into her secondment and three weeks into that dark, lonely feeling, Bernie finds out what she really means to Serena.

 

The rest of the weeks pass in a kind of gloomy blur.

Days turn to nights and nights turn to days, and Bernie is doing everything she can to not keep dying inside. She is doing everything she can to not feel like there is somebody waiting for her back home, back in England. It’s constantly grabbing at her, the thought of returning to the woman she loves, but she has made a vow she cannot break. 

Serena calls or emails frequently, always updating her on the latest shenanigan life is throwing her way. She never brings up her date again, and Bernie tries to stop herself from wondering why. She shouldn’t be upset, she shouldn’t feel like throwing up at the thought of Serena going out with somebody else. Bernie is the one who chose this, and she’s reminded herself countless times. She should be happy for Serena, and she is really, really trying to be.

But she can’t, and Bernie knows it’s because of the raging pit of jealously that’s burning low in her stomach at all times of the day as the weeks keep passing.

 

It is one week until she is set to return to the land of wet weather and unrequited love when Bernie asks to extend her secondment indefinitely.

It’s a maudlin Wednesday and the trauma facility she has built is flourishing, and she tries not to think about the one she built at home. She is watching the staff awe over the equipment and feels proud of the work she has done but is interrupted by the vibrating of her mobile. She doesn’t expect to hear Serena’s voice on the other line, and she can’t help the little flutter her heart makes when she hears it. Bernie briefly contemplates checking herself for a heart murmur but dismisses the thought as soon as she hears the trepidation and sort of unease in which Serena starts their conversation.

_Bernie, I need to tell you something._

_Has something happened?_

_Yes. Well, no. Not exactly._

_What is it?_

_I’ve met someone._

_Oh? Is it the same one you mentioned?_

_Yes._

_Oh, good for you._

_Bernie?_

_Serena._

_It’s Robbie._

_Robbie? Your Robbie? The same Robbie?_

_Yes._

_Oh._

_He proposed._

_Isn’t it a little early for that?_

_Maybe?_

_What did you say?_

_I said yes._

_Oh._

_He’s a good guy, and he’s finally come around to Jason, and-_

_I have to go, Serena, a trauma call is coming in. Talk to you later?_

_Yes, yes, of course. Goodbye, Bernie._

She ends the call before Serena hears her tearful goodbye, throat tight and voice hoarse. Serena doesn’t need to know Bernie lied to end the call, so she could lock herself in a supply closet for ten minutes while she cries angry, hot tears and tries not to feel like everything she has worked for in life is coming to an end. Bernie doesn’t need to hear every good deed Robbie has done, she doesn’t need to hear every way in which he is providing for Serena because Bernie cannot. She really wants to be happy for Serena, because that’s all she’s ever wanted, for Serena to be happy, but it still feels like a knife going in when she imagines her walking down the aisle to read vows to someone that isn’t her. She lets herself feel the regret of her decisions as she goes to her boss’s office but leaves them behind her when she walks through the door. She remembers her own vows as she sits down in the chair in front of his desk, every week there is a new one. _Don’t pine for Serena_. _Don’t kiss Serena. Don’t love Serena. Don’t miss Serena. Don’t think about Serena._

It is one week until she is set to return to the land of wet weather and unrequited love when Bernie practically gets on her knees and begs to have her time in Ukraine extended indefinitely.

 

It is almost a year later when Bernie steps back onto British soil in the Heathrow Airport, duffel thrown over her shoulder and dark circles under her eyes.  

Her time in Kiev was over and she misses her children. She misses somebody else too, but she has learned to bury that feeling underneath work and whiskey.  Mostly work. Whiskey only on the weekends. Over the past year, her contact with Serena was few and far between. Ever since that fateful phone call in the middle of her shift, she started ignoring some of the calls and emails, only answering the ones intended for professional reasons. Serena never brings up Robbie again and it is soon understood that any talk of personal lives is off the table. She eventually started to ignore the calls altogether and barely answered the emails, short sentences and a formal tone. But now Serena hasn’t asked her advice on emergency tracheotomies in months. She tries not to think about when Serena is getting married, how soon it’s probably going to happen, if it already hasn’t.

She starts a new job at a hospital in London and it is nothing like Holby. The walls are brighter, and the streets are busier, and the trauma is never ending. Bernie relishes it, thrives in it.  She calls her daughter and she calls her son, intending to rebuild the relationships with them that have slowly diminished in her haste to leave the country and the woman she loves behind.

Because she does love Serena, still. She thinks she always will, and she is learning to live with the dull, constant throb of it in her bones. It is less life threatening, feels less like a terminal illness. Now it feels more like an autoimmune deficiency, a hindrance on her life, but one she can live with.

She takes her children to a small café and tells them the truth. She apologizes for not being present and tells them about the woman with short hair and brown eyes, the woman who upended her life in the smallest space of time. She tells them of the infinity in which she will always love Serena, and she apologizes for it.

_Mum, you don’t need to apologize. We love you, and we just want you to be happy._

She goes home to her new, empty flat that night and cries for the loss of her children’s anger and a love gone unsatisfied.

 

The light of the outside world is too dazzling, too clear. Bernie hates it.

She begrudgingly takes the keys to her room from the concierge, a slight frown on her face. Of all the surgeons in the goddamn bloody hospital in which she works, she was the one chosen to go to the medical conference in Manchester. So what the medical conference is based around trauma? She’s not the only trauma surgeon in that bloody hospital. So what she’s the best? She still doesn’t want to go to the conference.

It’s late and she’s weary, one of the few days she allows herself to feel everything she tries to keep underneath the surface of her thoughts, tucked safely away in the back of her mind. It’s late and she’s weary, and she misses Serena. She misses the woman she has loved for almost two years, the woman she’s never properly had, and the one she never will.

Her room is nice enough, but it’s lacking in something. Bernie suddenly realizes its comfort. It lacks comfort and warmth and the presence of another person, not that she has that in her flat anyways. She contemplates going to bed, but she noticed a bar in the lobby and they had stocks of half decent whiskeys, a call she can’t refuse. The elevator creaks and the lobby is vibrant, but the bar is dim and soothing, a cool respite from the troubles that still plague her after all these years.

She sits at the bar and orders a whiskey, eyes a redhead from across the way. The woman looks back and gives Bernie a once over, a small smirk on her face. This is something she’s allowed herself recently: to look, to appreciate other women. She is still too far gone to even entertain the thought of going out with someone other than a pair of warm, brown eyes, but she allows herself to look, to appreciate. The redhead starts to make her way over and Bernie tries to mentally prepare herself for the awkward flirting and stumbled explanations of _No, I can’t meet you in your room, I’m in love with a woman who doesn’t love me_ that will soon happen, but the woman falters in her steps. She looks at something over Bernie’s shoulder and turns back around. Bernie pauses, confused by the sudden change in demeanor.

“Hello, stranger.” She turns to look over her shoulder and sees the very woman she tries not to always thinks about, the woman she’s been running from for the past two years. Except this Serena seems… softer, happier. Her hair is shorter, grayer, and Bernie has never seen anything so beautiful, so magnificent.

“Serena.”

“The one and only.” The line catapults Bernie to a distant memory, a phone call and the first time Serena broke her heart. She is all warm smiles and tight trousers in the low lighting, a glow on her face. Bernie’s heart clenches, and she has to stop her eyes from drifting to her hands, afraid of what she might find.

“You can look, you won’t find anything.” It’s unnerving, how well Serena can still read her, but she finally allows herself to look and feels relief wash over her, but instantly feels guilty. Serena was never hers, she never had a right to claim her.  

“I thought you-“

“Not here.”

 

Bernie lets herself be led to Serena’s hotel room, and there’s an air of intimacy about it all that makes her feel slightly off kilter, like she doesn’t belong. The room is similar to her own, but now it feels comfortable, the presence of Serena providing the thing Bernie has been missing all these years. They’re facing each other, standing at the edge of the bed, and Bernie looks at Serena. _Really_ looks. Serena is looking right back, and Bernie can see the years of pent up animosity and anger and longing.

“There’s no need for idle chit chat, no small talk. I just have one question. Why? Why did you do it?” Bernie knows exactly what Serena is asking, and she knows an explanation is being demanded from her, but she can’t stop staring at the eyes she has dreamed about, the eyes that reflect the same regret in her own.

“I’m not sure my reasons will be ones you want to hear.”

“I don’t care what you think I might or might not want to hear. I want an explanation, Bernie.” It is the use of her name, the syllables rolling on Serena’s tongue that break her. The tears form before she can stop them, roll down her cheeks before she can wipe them away.

“Because I love you. I left because I loved you and I stayed away because I still do. I kissed you because I wanted to, and I left because I thought I needed to. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, even if you weren’t mine, and I didn’t think you could be happy with me there, always wanting you.”

“Did you ever stop to think about what _I_ wanted? Did you ever think that maybe, just _maybe_ , things were mutual? That I wanted you as much as you wanted me? I felt like a bloody fool, Bernie. You kissed me, and I knew exactly what I wanted, and then you _left_. You left, and you never gave me the chance to love you, you didn’t let me. For months, for _years_ , I prayed you would come to your senses and would come back. Come _home_. But you stayed, and I was angry, for so long, but I didn’t stay angry. I could never stay angry, not when I know I would still follow you anywhere.”

“From the moment I knew I loved you, Serena, I knew I would never stop. And I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I left. I’m sorry I wasn’t there, I’m so sorry…” Her words become strangled, drowned out by the tears still falling. Bernie grabs the bed sheets, hands wrapped in a tangible object to keep herself grounded, trying not to be consumed by the hurt she’s caused, but then Serena is there, whispering words and rubbing her hands across shoulder blades and down arms, tangling into hands. Bernie releases the sheets and grips Serena instead, a talisman in the night, her crying heart calming and finally finding its place. Serena cups her face in her hands and brings her head up. Bernie looks at Serena again and can see the rest of her life waiting for her. All is not forgiven, but when Serena kisses her, she knows all will be okay. It’s not perfect, not yet, but it’s okay, it will be.

Bernie’s vows are now broken, but new ones are forming.

A vow to give all her light in the world to the woman she knows loves her too.


	10. it all fades away, but you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Our mum is Bernie Wolfe,” Cameron says by way of explanation, “fair to say our mothers are closely acquainted.” A look of understanding passes over Elinor’s face, and she sighs, looking between the siblings.
> 
> “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i write this in one day? yes i did. is it plausible? absolutely not. this is probably the most au-ish au i have ever written. ages are wrong!! careers are wrong!! terms and working order of holby city hospital is most definitely wrong!! guess what?? I DON'T CARE. let me have this, just enjoy it!! PLEASE don't come for me. 
> 
> i'm also aware this idea has been done before in many variations, but that's the beauty of fanfiction!!! i have read a few fics like this, but most definitely not all, so if there are any similarities or overlapping ideas, it. is. all. coincidence!!!!!
> 
> also, i love every single one of your comments. they make my day and i want to marry all of you in solidarity. 
> 
> song title from a broadway actress because i'm nerdy and i'm proud.

“Charlotte, you need to tell Mum.”

“I will, Cameron, I’m just waiting for the right time.”

“And when’s the right time? When she’s paged for a consult on Keller and bumps into you?” Charlotte grabs her coffee from the barista and they make their way over to a table in the corner of Pulses. 

“Maybe.”

“She’ll be pissed.”

“Won’t be the first time, definitely won’t be the last.” Charlotte flashes a rueful grin, a quick reminiscence of their shared childhood escapades.

“I’ll remember you said that.” Cameron is cut off when a young woman approaches their table, an appraising look on her face as she studies the two occupants. Charlotte throws Cameron a questioning glance and he shrugs his shoulders. Charlotte looks back to the woman, long auburn hair and a dimpled chin.

“Can we help you?”

“I know you, both of you. I’m just trying to remember from where.” Her voice is questioning, a faraway look on her face as she tries to recall a memory. Charlotte thinks she’s the type of person who puts themselves in a situation without really thinking first.

“Shall we start with our names? I’m Cameron, and this is Charlotte, my sister.”

“I’m Elinor.” The three of them shake hands, and Cameron begins to feel like he should know this stranger, like he’s seen her before, maybe in passing.

“Do you work here, Elinor?”

“Yes, I just got hired as part of this management thing the board is doing. But don’t go around telling anybody.” A flash of fear passes over her face, a quiet moment of pleading.

“Why would we do that?” Charlotte turns defensive, but Elinor smiles kindly.

“Oh, I’m not implying you would, I just don’t want my mum finding out yet.”

“Why not?” Cameron is still trying to place her face, it’s eerily familiar, but he doesn’t know why.

“She works here. A consultant up on AAU.”

“Is your mum Serena Campbell?” Charlotte asks the question before he can, and he immediately knows who this woman is, and why they already seem to know each other.

“Yes, actually. Do you know her?”

“Our mum is Bernie Wolfe,” Cameron says by way of explanation, “fair to say our mothers are _closely_ acquainted.” A look of understanding passes over Elinor’s face, and she sighs, looking between the siblings.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

 

“Elinor, care to tell us why you’ve gathered us here today?” They’re in Pulses again, Cameron and Charlotte in scrubs with Holby City Hospital jackets on and hoods up. Elinor has her back to the small café, is turned towards the wall, and Cameron starts to feel like they are about to have a conversation they shouldn’t have.

“Yes, okay, so it’s no secret what happened between our mums before _somebody_ ran away to a foreign country, and I have absolutely the _best_ idea.” Charlotte and Cameron cast a quick glance at each other, they know all too well of their mother’s indiscretions. A thought crosses Charlotte’s mind, and she suddenly knows why Elinor wanted to meet up with them again.

“Oh no.”

“Oh _yes_.”

“Elinor, no. We are not getting ourselves involved.” Elinor rolls her eyes and huffs, reminds Cameron of her mother.

“We have to! I don’t know about your mum, but mine has been moping about her house for months, and it only got slightly better when Bernie came back. She still drinks way too much Shiraz with dinner and still moons over your mother.” Elinor looks displeased, but Charlotte can see the sadness lacing around the edges of her face. She knows what it’s like to have an unhappy mother, and she finds herself slowly being swayed. Cameron still looks unconvinced and looks between the two young women in a state of helplessness.

“And this is our problem how?”

“Listen to what she’s saying, Cam. You know just as well as I do that Mum has been walking around everywhere like a kicked puppy since she got back, and there’s only one explanation.”

“Yes, that explanation being our mums are total idiots in love and not doing anything about it.” Elinor looks at them pointedly, and she knows she has successfully roped them in.

“What are you proposing?” Cameron still looks wary, not fully willing to meddle in the lives of his mother and her almost-but-not-really-girlfriend who is also his boss.

“That _we_ do something about it.” Charlotte looks at him hopefully, and he knows he’s losing the game. He nods slowly.

“Alright, but there’s one more opinion we should get.”

“Whose?” Elinor and Charlotte say it at the same time, and Cameron almost immediately regrets his acquiescence.  

 

“So, Jason, what do you think of Operation Berena?” Cameron, Charlotte, Elinor, and Jason are sitting in a booth of a restaurant a few days later after _many_ rearrangements to Jason’s schedule. It’s noon on a Saturday, and Elinor is itching to start putting the plan into action as soon as possible.

“Berena?”

“Bernie and Serena, it’s an amalgamation of their names,” Charlotte pipes up.

“I’m still trying to understand why this is our problem. This is obviously a personal matter between Auntie Serena and Doctor Bernie, why do we have to get involved?”

“Like I just said Jason,” Cameron starts, “if we help your auntie and my mum finally get together, Serena will be less sad and less likely to have something in your routine slip her mind. Didn’t you just say she forgot your large gherkin with your fish and chips last week? I bet she wouldn’t forget it if Bernie was around to remind her.” Jason nods at Cameron’s words, working through the case he’s making and trying to find inaccuracies, ends up with none.

“You do make a logical point.”

“Is that a yes?” Elinor speaks for the first time since they sat down, unable to hold in her excitement and hope for her cousin’s agreement. The more people on their side, the better. Jason looks at them all for a moment before he gives his answer, breaths held and three pairs of eyes glued to his face. He nods.

“Yes.”

 

“Flowers? That sounds so simple it’s almost stupid.”

“I don’t hear you coming up with any better ideas, Cam.”

“You two, _please_ , we only have two minutes left on our breaks.“

“Remind me why we’re meeting in a supply closet?”

“ _Jason_ -“ Three exasperated voices are cut off by the sound of the door opening and two figures blocking out the fluorescent light flooding in from the hallway.

“ _What_ is going on in here?” Major Wolfe stands before them as Charlotte and Cameron shrink back slightly, sheepishness creeping onto their faces. No one answers, and Serena slices the silence with her voice.

“What do the four of you have to say for yourselves? We could hear you bickering from the nurse’s station!” Elinor tries to hold her own, but her stare has nothing on her mother’s, and she averts it. Jason stands still, just as confused as he was before.

“Surprise?” Cameron is the first one of them to speak, no amount of bravery in his voice. Bernie glares.

“ _Surprise_?”

“Can one of you please explain to me why the four of you are arguing in a supply closet?” Serena begins to sound tired, and the four of them start to feel a bit guilty for the situation they’re creating. Bernie turns to Charlotte then, and points.

“And why you’re wearing scrubs?”

“And pray tell, Elinor, why you’re even in the hospital right now?” It’s a few seconds of quiet, none of them quite ready to spill their truths. Cameron takes a deep breath and braces himself against the steely eyes of his bosses and respective mother and basically-step-mother.

“Okay, here’s the run down. Ms. Wolfe, as you know, I work here. Ms. Campbell, as you know, so does Jason. Charlotte, who should have told you _weeks_ ago,” he looks to Charlotte and then at Bernie again, “is a new F1 up on Keller. And Elinor is part of a new management team for the board upstairs.” Serena and Bernie kind of just… stare, as they try and process all of the information being given to them.

“Were any of you going to tell us before now?”

“Of course, we just…” Charlotte trails off, trying to find the words to give a proper explanation while trying not to reveal their ulterior motives.

“Just what?”

“We were waiting for the right time.” Bernie and Serena keep staring, obviously exhausted from hours in theatre and their children’s resilience to not cooperate.

“That still doesn’t answer why the hell the four of you are in here.” Jason looks at Cameron, Cameron looks at Charlotte, and Charlotte looks at Elinor, who has never looked more chastened. She turns back to Bernie and Serena, shrugs slightly, but her tremulous voice gives her away.

“Family squabble?” The four of them file out of the room, willing to pretend like nothing happened as Bernie watches them walk down the hallway, still standing just inside the supply closet next to Serena. She quirks an eyebrow in question, but Serena just sighs and shakes her head. It’s the longest conversation they’ve had all day.

**_Operation Berena Exclusive Group Text:_ **

_Remind me again why your mum fled to Kiev?_

_Previous emotional instability and inherent fear of discussing feelings. It’s a conditioned response, not inherited, don’t worry._

_I like you more and more every day, Charlotte._

_Shut up._

 

Serena walks into the office but stops short as she sees a bouquet of tulips on her desk, turns to see an identical bouquet of lilies on Bernie’s. She almost doesn’t want to ask, but finding her and Bernie’s children arguing in a supply closet reminded her to question everything that’s been happening on the ward lately. She looks at Bernie and points to the vases.

“What’s this?”

“Flowers.” Bernie doesn’t look up from the computer and Serena rolls her eyes.

“Well yes, I can see that. I’m asking why they’re here.” Bernie still doesn’t look up from the computer even though Serena knows she’s just pretending to respond to emails to avoid eye contact. They’ve been doing that a lot lately, avoiding each other.

“I dunno.”

“Did you read the card?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t think to?” Bernie finally looks up from the screen, and Serena softens a bit when their eyes meet. She lets it drop and inspects the flowers for herself, grabbing the cards attached to both bouquets. Her eyebrows shoot up as she reads the messages printed on them, hands them to Bernie when she’s done.

“You should read these.”

“Does it really matter?”

“I think you’ll find it does once you read these cards.” Bernie takes the cards from Serena’s outstretched hand and feels her fatigue subside in place of impatience towards her children’s antics. Speaking of, she hears familiar voices trying to shush each other at the nurse’s station and sees Cameron and Charlotte accompanied by Elinor and Jason peering into the office while trying not to seem obvious, but they’re not doing too well. Bernie glances back down at the cards before meeting Serena’s gaze again. She tries to work out what it is she sees, but she’s lost, hasn’t been able to read her for weeks.

_To Serena, I’m sorry. x_

_To Bernie, all is forgiven. x_

“What’s their game?”

“I’m not sure we want to know.”

 

Bernie’s looking over patient charts at the nurse’s station, trying not to miss Serena’s gaze and warm touches. She’s starting to think this whole “just friends” thing is a tad bit difficult, and fairly full of bullshit. She glances up in time to see Charlotte entering the ward, light blue AAU scrubs on instead of maroon. She meets Cameron on his way to Bernie and they both stop in front of her.

“Charlotte, what are you doing here?”

“I got transferred to AAU, and no, I don’t know why.” She gives Bernie a wry smile and a half-hearted shrug, a habit she indubitably picked up from her mother.

“I’m starting to think someone up there has it in for me. Probably Hanssen.”

“Looks like AAU is turning into a family affair.” Fletch walks up behind Bernie to put a chart away, smiles at Charlotte and Cameron. He catches Bernie’s eye and his smile slowly fades.

“Don’t you have patients to help? Charts to read? Business of your own to mind?”

“Right on, Major.”

 

**_Operation Berena Exclusive Group Text:_ **

_Auntie Serena and Doctor Bernie are no closer than they were yesterday. I believe it is time for another plan._

_Right you are, Jason. Right you are._

_I know I am, Cameron, you don’t have to tell me._

_Right._

 

Serena walks up the sidewalk to the French restaurant, hopes she’s not too late. She’s about to walk through the entrance when she spies a familiar head of blonde curls walking towards her from the other direction. Bernie’s walk slows as she spots Serena, a question forming through her knitted brows. They both pause outside the entrance, suspiciously looking at each other for a few seconds.

“Bernie? What are you doing here?”

“I’m supposed to be meeting Cameron and Charlotte for dinner.”

“Unbelievable.” Serena doesn’t think she’s ever rolled her eyes this much in so little time, and she thinks tonight might be the night she actually has the courage to kill somebody, frustration and irritation being the only things keeping her together.  

“What? Why? What are you doing here?”

“I’m supposed to be meeting Elinor for dinner.”

“Ah.” Bernie nods her head once in understanding, letting the weight of their situation settle heavily on her shoulders.

“Our children seem to think they’re sneaky.” Bernie nods again. Silence.

“Well, it seems a waste to not use the reservation. Dinner?” Bernie hates how hopeful her voice sounds, she’s been trying to give Serena time and space to acclimate to her presence again, but tonight seems like a good opportunity to try and tear down the divide that has kept them separated for so long now.

“Throw in some Shiraz and you have yourself a deal, Ms. Wolfe.” Serena throws her a smirk, and Bernie feels a familiar flutter in her stomach before she can push it down. Her feelings are still untamable it seems, a fact she is slowly resigning to. Bernie opens the door for them, indicates Serena go ahead of her.

“Lead the way Ms. Campbell.” They check in with the hostess and are shown to their table. Bernie considers pulling out Serena’s chair for her, but she doesn’t want this to seem more like a date than it already does. She’s surprised Serena even agreed to dinner, and she’s not willing to risk the unstable balance of their friendship by pushing it. They sit down, and Serena immediately beckons the waiter over. He takes their orders and when he’s gone, Bernie asks the question that has been on her mind all week.

“Do you have any idea why they’re doing this? The kids?” Her question makes them sound like a family- her, Serena, the kids. She can’t deny the warm feeling that spreads throughout her body at the thought as she waits for Serena’s response.

“I don’t know about you, but I have a growing suspicion they’re trying to bring us closer.”

“Why would they do that? We’re close.”

“Are we?” There’s an edge in Serena’s voice, a fragility she hasn’t allowed since Bernie got back.

“Serena-”

“All I’m saying is they know what happened before… before you left. Maybe they just want us to be happy.” Bernie recognizes the faux air of indifference Serena is putting out, the hint of a wish in her tone betraying her. But Bernie can’t do this, she can’t mess this up again.

“What they don’t seem to understand is that two people can be happy without being together.” She looks at Serena and sees a light go out, feels the same light go out in her heart. A flame withering away to ashes, their own personal Shakespearean tragedy.

“Of course. We’re friends, it’s what we decided on.”

“Is it?” Before Bernie can give voice to her desires, the waiter comes by with the food they forgot they ordered, and the conversation dies. Neither of them bring it up again as they eat in terse silence, or when they agree to split the bill, and they definitely don’t bring it up again when they part ways, not even a handshake between them. They don’t even let themselves think about it until they’re both home in the privacy of their own bedrooms, where no one can hear the already silent tears of desperation.

 

**_Operation Berena Exclusive Group Text:_ **

_I’m starting to think denial is Serena’s favorite sport._

_Makes sense, my mum has never liked anything that’s actually physically demanding._

_Wow, repression is our mum’s favorite past time. They seem like a match made in Heaven._

_Match made in Heaven or “Latent Lesbians Over 50?”_

_Elinor, why must you?_

 

“Look at them, they are absolutely hopeless. Walking about with sad faces, not even talking to each other.” Elinor is slumped over the nurse’s station, head resting on her hand, as she watches her mother watch Bernie. Cameron and Charlotte are sitting behind the desk on the computers, watching their mum sneak glances at Serena almost more often than she sneaks glances at them.

“At least you aren’t down here enough to see them constantly pining after one another.” Charlotte chuckles slightly against the gravity of their situation.

“I think I would vomit.”

“I’m pretty sure I almost did.” Charlotte smacks Cameron lightly on the arm, aware he probably isn’t joking.

“Friends my arse, they’re literally in love with each other.” Elinor’s voice raises, and Cameron shushes her quickly. Jason is standing next to Elinor, discontent clear as day on his face.

“Can we stick to the discussion at hand please? The dinner was obviously a failure, so we need to formulate a new plan for Operation Berena.”

“Right, okay-“ Elinor is cut off by a demanding voice behind her and she immediately tenses, preparing for the lie she has to tell her mother.

“Elinor, what are you doing here?”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing at all.” She says it a little too quickly, and she thinks she would rather have her mother yelling at her than looking at her with the disappointment currently shrouding her eyes.

“Care to rethink that answer?”

“I’m just saying hello to Cam and Charlie on my break. Oh, look at that, break over. Ta!” She grabs Jason lightly by the elbow and leads him away, Cameron and Charlotte hurriedly turning back to the computers to pretend they’re looking at test results. Serena feels Bernie walk up behind her and the stress in her body automatically alleviates against her wishes.

“When did our children get so chummy?” It’s whispered into her ear, breath ghosting down her neck, and it takes everything Serena has not to shiver.

“Honestly, I don’t think we want to know.”

 

They meet in the same restaurant, in the same booth, Jason’s need for stability and routine starting to rub off on the other three. Elinor is listing off the grievances committed by their mums in the past two weeks, counting them on her fingers.

“We’ve sent them flowers pretending to be each other, we’ve set them up on a date, manipulated their theatre schedules, which is illegal might I add, and they still haven’t done anything more than have two stilted conversations with each other.”

“Our mums are brilliant surgeons, but they are right idiots,” Cameron says in between bites of chips.

“You can say that again.”

“Right idiots.” Charlotte gives him a warning glare before turning back to Elinor across from her.

“Just locking them in a room together until they come out snogging is sounding more and more appealing.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Hold on, Elinor may have a point.” Jason takes a break from eating his fish and holds a finger up to gain their attention.

“What? Seriously?”

“Think about it. Everything we’ve done so far has been leaving them to their own devices, letting them control the situation we put them in. What if we remove the variable of their agency and put them in a situation where they cannot leave and are therefore forced to discuss their relationship?”

“Jason, are you proposing we lock our mums in a room together until they come out snogging?”

“Precisely.”

 

Serena doesn’t think she’s ever been more tired in her entire life, between managing the ward, fighting off her feelings for Bernie, and trying to figure out what the hell their children are up to. They’ve been skittish around her and Bernie ever since they found them in the supply closet. Elinor and Jason come down to AAU for their breaks every shift to lean in close to Charlotte and Cameron, heads bowed and whispering in each other’s ears while throwing glances at her and Bernie. Frankly, it’s a bit disconcerting.

Her neck aches, and her fingers are sore. Hours spent in theatre across from Bernie this afternoon was grueling. It’s getting harder and harder to ignore the gazes, the hands reaching out to touch but never completing the mission. They’re stuck in a cycle of halfway, a viscous thing they’ve made for themselves. She rubs at her temples to try and help the strain that seems to be constantly gripping her body, but her head shoots up when the office door opens and Bernie walks in, shutting it behind her and sitting at her desk.

“Long day?”

“Oh yes.”

The conversation ends there, as do most of them. Serena hates it, this constant tiptoeing around each other. She hates that she isn’t brave enough to just give in and tell Bernie what she wants, to just tell Bernie that it’s _her_. Serena wants _her_. She opens her mouth, not quite sure what’s going to come out, when she’s interrupted by the sound of a key turning a lock. Her head whips to the door along with Bernie, and sees Jason standing on the other side, triumphantly holding up a key.

“Jason?”

“For Pete’s sake, what’s he doing?” Bernie runs to the door and pulls at the handle to no avail.

“We understand, Auntie Serena. We totally understand.” She’s about to question what he means, but then sees Elinor, Cameron, and Charlotte standing a few steps behind him. Understanding dawns as she curses their intelligence and pragmatic ways. She turns to her phone and picks it up.

“I’ll call security, they’ll get us-”

“No, wait. I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” Serena’s hold on her phone loosens as she puts it back in the receiver. She looks at Bernie, sees apprehension and resolve. Something out of the corner of her eye catches her attention and she sees Elinor and Jason holding up signs. _Tell her you love her!_ She spies Fletch in the background with a smirk on his face. _Bastard._

“Are you even listening?” Serena’s attention snaps back to Bernie and she goes to stand next to her against the filing cabinets, away from the prying eyes of Elinor and Jason.

“Absolutely.” She tries to discreetly peer over Bernie’s shoulder to see if they’re still there, but Bernie snorts without humor and takes a few steps forward, throwing her arms up in the air.

“Forget it. You can’t even bring yourself to look at me.”

“I’m looking, I’m looking. Are you?”

 

Bernie didn’t think she would ever regret sending her children to medical school until she saw them standing outside one of the office windows, out of Serena’s peripheral, holding up signs. _Just say you love her!_ In this very moment, she regrets it with every fiber of her being. She tries to ignore her children and instead focuses back on Serena, sees the trepidation and agitation holding her frame.

“Yes, I am.”

“I’m listening. I’m here.”

”Serena, I like you- no, God. I _more_ than like you, and I know I’ve messed things up. I’ve done the wrong things, I’ve said the wrong things. All I was able to think about since that day I left was _you_ , Serena. It still is. I hate what we’ve become, I hate the silence. I miss my friend.” Bernie slowly makes her way back to Serena, leans against the filing cabinets, and looks at the woman she loves.

”Just your friend?”

”You could never be ‘just’ anything to me. You know that.”

“You’ve apologized for the radio silence and the abruptness in which you left, but you’ve never given me an explanation.” Bernie sighs and cranes her neck, looks at the ceiling tiles for a few moments before looking down at her shoes, hands wringing themselves.

“I’ve destroyed too many friendships in my life because I was scared, and I didn’t want to destroy ours too.”

“How do I know this time is different? How do I know you won’t leave again?” Bernie looks at her, and Serena doesn’t think she could turn away even if she wanted to.

“I’ve changed, Serena. I’m ready to face whatever obstacle gets thrown my way next, as long as you’re by my side. Ukraine was lonely and empty, and I don’t want that ever again. I’m here to stay this time. I…”

Serena could close her eyes and still feel every emotion radiation off of Bernie, the intensity of them throwing her off. She knows what Bernie is trying to say, what she wants to say.

“Yes?” It’s more than a little hopeful, a little less than fearful, a push in the right direction.

“I love you.”

Serena closes her eyes for several long minutes, feels Bernie’s emotions through the conduit of her mouth, whispers her love back with her tongue and moans her acceptance.

 

“Do you think we should tell them they forgot to close the other set of blinds?”

“Give them a few more minutes, then we’ll do a courtesy knock.”

“Is now a good time to mention I’ve lost the key?”

“ _Jason_.”

 

**_Operation Berena Exclusive Group Text:_ **

_Welcome to the family group chat, Mums!_

_This is weird. I’m not sure I like this._

_Oh come on Bernie, you and my mum will learn to love it._

_I think Bernie might be right on this one, Elinor._

_Quick question._

_Yes, Bernie? This is Jason, by the way._

_Hi Jason. What the hell is a ‘berena’? And why is it an operation?_

_Are you serious?_

_Charlotte, I’ve never been more serious in my entire life._

_Including the time you sat Charlotte and I down to tell us you liked women?_

_Cameron!_

_What? It’s a valid question, and pertinent to the conversation._

_Bernie, dear, I love you, but sometimes you are absolutely helpless._

_I’m going to chuck my phone against a wall._


	11. here i am, stuck in the middle with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why are we at a gay bar?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert evil laugh* this idea would not leave my head, but it is considerably shorter than most of my other chapters. remember, you can always request a sequel chapter...
> 
> song title from Stealers Wheel, what a bop. enjoy my friends. ;)

Serena could kill Sian.

She is _way_ too drunk for this.

There are people everywhere, the air feels hot and sticky, and her brain can’t focus on one thing for too long before the world starts to whirl around her. Not to mention she doesn’t even know where Sian is, doesn’t even really remember the last time she saw her. She should’ve just stayed home, opened a bottle of Shiraz, and finished watching _The Fall_. That was her plan, but Sian wanted to go out, and who was Serena to say no? Jason was at Alan’s for the night, she had no plans with anyone else, and it all seemed kind of… sad. Dreary.

Serena shakes the lonely thoughts from her head, knowing it won’t do her any good to dwell on them now. She’s perched at the bar, scanning the room through slightly glassy eyes, trying and failing to make out anything in the lights that only seem to get dimmer as the night goes on. She sees a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of her eye and she turns, hoping to find Sian and get the hell out of this bar- _why do they keep playing Melissa Etheridge?_ But it’s not Sian, it’s some other blonde, and Serena goes to turn back around to try and find her friend but- _oh, okay. It’s an attractive not-Sian blonde._

The Woman is here with somebody else, an attractive brunette, and Serena kind of wishes she were in her place instead, but shuts the thought down almost immediately, blaming it on her alcohol-induced musings. She continues her search, trying and failing to spot the whirlwind of a friend that got her in this mess anyways. Her eyes squint slightly at a bright, flashing, neon sign. _What kind of bar is this anyways?_ Everything is… a rainbow? And there are so many _women_ ; Serena doesn’t think she’s seen a man here all night. Her eyes travel back to the neon sign, a beacon in the night, and she manages to read what it says. _The Eden Lounge_.

 _Holy fuck. This is a gay bar._ Sian took her to a gay bar.

“Serena, there you are! I’ve been looking for you.” Sian appears out of thin air, colorful cocktail in hand, and somehow has what seems to be the only straight man here on her arm. Serena doesn’t know, she _honestly_ doesn’t know how Sian manages to be so vigorously straight.

“I haven’t moved all night.” Serena’s tone is monotonous, a direct reflection of her feelings, and Sian pouts a little. Serena could smack her.

“Why aren’t you mingling?”

“Why are we at a gay bar?”

“What do you mean? Aren’t you having fun?”

“I tell you about what happened in Stepney _one time_ -”

“Calm down and get your knickers out of a wad. Have _fun_ , you look like you could use it.” Before Serena can make a retort, Sian disappears again, practically dragging her companion along. She frowns but surveys the room with a different lens this time and allows herself to look. She’s still far from sober and it doesn’t help her deteriorating eyesight, barely able to make out any faces, and _why do the lights keep getting darker?_ She spots the same blonde she noticed earlier, already somehow knowing where she had relocated to in the bar. She’s still standing next to the brunette, but now another woman has joined them, her arm around the brunette’s waist, leaning in for a kiss, and oh… _they’re together. Right. Gay. Lesbian. Whatever. Bar._

Serena looks away, not wanting to stare or intrude on a private moment, but she can’t help looking back, her eyes drawn to the same goddamn blonde Woman. Except this time when Serena looks, she’s already staring back. She gasps at the intensity of the gaze, dark eyes boring into hers. She feels a flare in the pit of her stomach, one that has been dormant for too long. Even drunk, she still knows what that means. Because _holy shit, she’s very beautiful. God-like. Oh, a goddess, that's what they're called. Still doesn't do her justice._

Serena has to look away, her mind unable to process or comprehend what any of this means. She doesn’t have a lot of experience in these situations anyways, flirting, with intention, with a _woman_. Of course she’s flirted with women before, that’s just who she is, but it’s always been harmless. Well, at least she thought it was before Stepney-

“Come here often?” She whips her head to the side, the very Woman she was thinking about suddenly standing before her. On the inside, Serena feels panicked, but on the outside, her wine-induced demeanor keeps her suave. _Keep it cool, Campbell. Keep it cool._ The curls, the black skinny jeans, it all adds to the sexual appeal this Woman beholds.

“Has that line actually ever worked?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” The Woman smirks, and it’s insanely attractive. Serena feels herself melting into a puddle, putty in this Woman’s hands. _Keep it cool._

“A bit presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”

“I like to take my chances.”

She quirks her eyebrow, and the Woman has the nerve to look _smug._ “What makes you think I’m even interested?”

“It’s not every night a beautiful woman can’t stop staring at me.”

Both eyebrows shoot up this time, a look of actual disbelief gracing her features. It’s unbelievable, this Woman doesn’t know how appealing her face is, distinct proportions and _oh, those hands._ “I find that hard to believe.”

“Is that so?” She’s caught and they both know it, and Serena finds herself wanting to kiss that stupid, smug look off this Woman’s face. Serena throws caution to the wind, at best she’ll end up laid, at worst she’ll go home and lay herself. No worries.

“Can I buy you a drink?” 

“I thought it was me who is supposed to be picking up you.”

“While I do admit you have the edge in the muscle department, I’m more than confident in my skills. What are you having?” The Woman pauses before resolve lights up her face, _her stunning face._ _Dear Lord, I really am drunk._

“Actually, I have something better in mind.”

“And what would that be?”

_Keep it cool, keep it cool, keep it cool-_

 

Serena doesn’t really remember how they got here, they probably could have teleported, and she would be none the wiser. Leaving the bar? No recollection. Taking a cab? No clue. Walking up two flights of stairs? Absolutely no idea. Finding herself in this mysterious stranger’s flat with lips hot on her neck? All she cares about. The door is still wide open, and Serena finds it within her alcohol-addled brain to kick it shut. The reverberating slam makes the Woman look up, and Serena feels her body respond. _Flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, heavy breathing_ , Serena can recognize arousal when she sees it. Diagnosing is her profession, the doctor in her will never die. Something about this Woman though, the look in her eyes, Serena sees something more than just arousal. A hint of affection, playfulness even, and intense desire. It takes her breath away, but that also might just be the insistent kissing or the wine making her heart work overtime. She can taste the whiskey on her breath, potent, and Serena's glad she's not the only drunk one here. 

Serena feels chilly hands around her waist, inching underneath her blouse, and it takes everything in her not to shudder. She hasn’t been touched in so long and everything this Woman is doing to her feels _so good._ The lips are back on her neck and hands are roaming across her stomach, down her sides, and Serena could die happy. It’s electric, satisfying, and nowhere near enough. They’re still in the entryway, and Serena pushes herself away from the wall, doesn’t remember when she was backed into it, and the Woman gets the hint. She feels them walking down a hallway, lips still fused, and over the threshold of a bedroom. Serena doesn’t take in her surroundings, solely focused on the body in front of her, insistently trying to unbutton the Woman’s shirt.

And when the clothes are off and the skin is warm, Serena doesn’t really think beyond the feeling of pure ecstasy that lies within the hands of this Woman, radiating and seeping into every part of her it can. She runs her hand through silk curls, feels the same being done to her. She’s not even self-conscious about the gray streaked throughout, somehow knows it’s one of the things that drew this Woman to her.

A thigh is placed there, a hand is moved there, and _oh shit._ She’s closer than she thought. It shouldn’t even be possible, but something about this Woman sets her on fire, the flames refusing to be put out. It’s new, it’s wonderful, and _oh my god, oh my god, oh my god-_

“Oh my god.”

“Nope, just me.” Serena chuckles, more than breathless, and somehow this Woman has managed to find every spot on her body that makes her-

“What are you doing to me?” It’s a whisper, and she didn’t even mean to say it out loud, but her tongue is loose, and Shiraz is still running through her veins; a foundation of confidence. The Woman understands though, slows her movements a bit, and shoots Serena the softest smile she’s ever seen. She could fall in love with this Woman, but for now she’ll settle for a good old-fashioned one-night stand. Foreplay isn’t needed, but it’s more than welcome, and the Woman seems intent on giving it to her. She doesn’t even know her _name_ , and Serena has already found herself praying to a deity she doesn’t believe in to never have these hands stop touching her.

“Would you like to find out?”

_Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god-_

Serena shuts her front door behind her and leans against it for a few seconds, trying to catch her breath.

She knows she should have left something, a note, a number, hell- even a business card. But waking up next to the Woman that gave her the most satisfying sex of her life left her panicked, and she didn’t think it was possible she could get dressed that quickly without making any noise. Her head is still pounding, a firm reminder of the decisions she made last night. She’s going to _kill_ Sian.

She’s thankful she has today off, doesn’t think she could bear going into work feeling shagged to death and more than a little ashamed. She needs time to re-calibrate herself, prepare for the difficulties in her plans for tomorrow. She’s still leaning against the door, lost in thought, but regains her bearings when she feels her mobile buzzing in her coat pocket.

“Hello?”

_“And where did you run off to last night, Serena Ballerina?”_

“Oh hello, Sian, nice to hear from you too, how was your night?”

_“Uh-uh, details. Now.”_

Serena sighs. She doesn’t have it within her right now to ward off Sian’s probing questions. “I went home with somebody.”

_“Look at you! I knew you had it in you. What was her name? Was it the blonde you had been eyeing all night?”_

“I was not eyeing her _all_ night.”

_“So it was her!”_

She grimaces, Sian’s volume too loud for her headache. “If you don’t lower your voice, I’m not going to tell you anything.”

 _“Inside voice, got it. Now spill it.”_ It’s a dramatic whisper, and Serena decides on the perfect spot to bury the body.

“If you must know, _yes_ , it was the blonde. _No_ , I don’t know her name. _Yes_ , it was good.”

_“How good?”_

A pause. “ _Very_ good.”

_“I’m so proud of you, picking up a woman and going home with her. You’ve finally made it.”_

Serena rolls her eyes, annoyed by her friend’s declaration of sentiments. “It’s not an accomplishment, Sian. She wasn’t a box to be ticked on my list of sexual partners.”

_“Did you at least leave her your phone number?”_

“Goodbye, Sian. I have a busy day ahead in order to recuperate for work tomorrow.”

_“Oh right, isn’t your new partner or whatever starting?”_

“You mean the co-clinical lead starting on the ward I all but birthed? Yes, they do.”

_“You’ll have to recap everything for me on our next ladies night.”_

She can already feel the torment she’s going to have to endure when they next go out, and she feels the urge to throw up. Hangover or her inquisitive friend, she doesn’t really know. “ _Goodbye_ , Sian.”

 

She strides into AAU, feet gliding on the tile floors of _her_ ward. She nods to Fletch at the nurse’s station, waves to Raf at bay four, smiles at Morven reading a scan. Confidence holds her shoulders back as she heads towards _her_ office and steels herself for the day ahead.

She will not let some good-for-nothing, pompous, entitled surgeon take over the ward she has made a reputation for. She will not let them usurp her power, question her decisions, or let them think they are in _any_ way equals. She has worked hard to get where she is today, and she will not let anybody jeopardize that, no matter how good Hanssen-

Oh, fuck. _Oh, fuck._

Serena’s hand is on the doorknob, bag on her shoulder, and jaw dropped. _It’s her, it’s her, it’s the-_

“Bernie Wolfe, trauma surgeon, and your new co-lead. I take it you’re Serena Campbell?”

She’s unable to look at the eyes she was staring into less than forty-eight hours ago, instead looks at the outstretched hand before her, waiting for a handshake. Her own hand won’t move, won’t reach out towards the fingers that made her scream for a god she doesn’t have faith in, _especially_ now.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck-_


	12. i got the feeling something ain't right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why are you always so entitled? Doesn’t it ever get boring?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you asked, so you shall receive. a follow-up to the last chapter due to high demand. i love you guys, i guess, so i wanted to write it as soon as possible. this chapter is also the closest thing to smut i will ever write. slightly more mature than the last chapter, but nothing too explicit. 
> 
> song title from the same song as the last one, babes.

  * _Shit, shit, shit-_



_It’s her._ The Stranger that pulled a quick one and bolted before Bernie could even rise with the sun. _No note, no number, not even a goddamn business card._ To say Bernie was disappointed was an understatement, it’s usually her that runs. It sounds stupid, she knows, but she couldn’t help but feel they had some sort of… connection. They both knew what it was, probably would never be more, but Bernie couldn’t quash the feeling of hope that arose anyway.

But now this Stranger is standing in front of her again, just as gorgeous in the light of day as she was in the moonlight while laying in Bernie’s bed, and her name is Serena Campbell. Her new co-lead. _Of fucking course._ The universe had a cheeky way of continuing to screw her over. The Stranger- no, _Serena_ , still hasn’t shaken her hand, and Bernie wants to hope beyond all doubt that maybe Serena regrets leaving Bernie the way she did almost as much as Bernie wishes she hadn’t. Their eyes haven’t really met, and there’s an uneasy silence in the office. The air between them is charged, and Bernie can’t tell if it’s good or bad. One of the doctors on the ward that Bernie hasn’t met yet appears in the doorway and she’s tempted to call it her saving grace. “Serena, can I have you check over these scans when you get a moment?”

“Yes, Morven, I’ll be with you shortly.” Serena turns back, and when they finally look at each other properly for the first time since Saturday night, Bernie feels disappointment wash over her in waves, pulling her under the surface current of despondency. There is no recognition in Serena’s eyes. No light, no spark, nothing. She feels a hand slide into her own and tries not to remember what it felt like on her body, focuses on the polite smile Serena is wearing. “Lovely to meet you Ms. Wolfe, the ward has been looking forward to working with you.”

“I find that hard to believe.” It’s a longshot, and she knows it. Both her and Serena were far from sober that night, but she’s hoping the line will jog something in Serena’s memory, anything welcome at this point. There’s nothing though, she gives no indication of recalling what she said in the bar. Either Serena doesn’t remember it was Bernie she slept with, or she is a very good actress, and Bernie’s afraid to find out the answer.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to see for yourself.” Serena walks out of the office, leaving her behind. _Maybe it’ll be better this way_ , she thinks, _less awkward._ It still hurts though, and Bernie does everything in her power not to let it affect her.

_Shit, shit, shit-_

“I don’t know what to tell you, Alex. She doesn’t remember.” They’re back in _The Eden Lounge_ , but it’s quieter tonight, less crowded with queer women trying to get laid and married. Alex shakes her head and sips her beer before responding.

“How do you _know_ , though?”

“She acted like it was the first time we ever met!”

Alex points a finger at Bernie, catching her logical fallacy. “Emphasis on acted.”

“Why would she do that if she remembered? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe she panicked? You just shagged her so good she knew she wouldn’t be able to work with you everyday knowing what those hands can do.” Bernie chokes a little bit on her whiskey, sputtering the liquid around her glass.

“You’re despicable.”

Alex smiles cheekily, “Am I wrong?”

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“I do a lot more than kiss my mother with this mouth, Bern.”

“Abhorrent, that's what you are.”

“What are you gonna do, Bernie? Are you going to bring it up?”

“I don’t think I can. I don’t think I _should_. If she doesn’t remember it was me, and I tell her it was, it’s going to be awkward. If she’s _pretending_ she doesn’t remember, and I ask her about it, she’ll know that I know she’s lying, and things would still be awkward.”  

"Just promise me you won't run from this. It's not good for you." Alex looks at her pleadingly and Bernie sighs. She knows Alex is right, but everything in her body is telling her to flee. She won't, though. She won't run from this. She's changed, and she won't let Serena Campbell scare her away. Not like this. 

 

Bernie is sitting in Fletch’s office, trying to do her paperwork as far away from the office she is supposed to share with Serena as she can be. She hears the door open and doesn’t look up in hopes that whoever it is will just go away.

“Not that I don’t mind you being in here, Major, but do you mind me asking why?”

“I’m sorry, Fletch. I just…”

“Was trying to avoid Serena?”

Bernie looks up sharply, meeting Fletch’s gaze with a hard one of her own. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I won’t ask, because it’s none of my business, but just give her a chance, alright? She’s a winner. Keep her close.” He walks out of the office, leaving Bernie with muddled thoughts. She tries not to think about just how close her and Serena were a few nights ago, can’t help the flare in her veins at the memory. She wants to like Serena as a colleague, she really does, but having her as a bedmate first was not a good way to do that. They don’t talk, no communication with each other outside of patient care and Serena asking Bernie to clean up the mess on her side of the desk.

She just hopes it gets better as the days go on.

 

She was wrong.

The days are going by and things are getting worse. Bernie is starting to appreciate the fact that Serena doesn’t remember their night together, because holy _shit_ , they kind of hate each other. Well, maybe hate is too strong a word, but extreme dislike is putting it nicely. They disagree on everything, constantly arguing over the best course of treatment or making snide remarks about each other’s competency. There is always something fizzling just underneath the surface of their interactions, an intense bubbling of hunger and anticipation neither of them want to put a voice to. And it pisses her off, because the more she fights with Serena, the more she _likes_ Serena. _Her stupid, cute face and her stupid little smile that is never directed at me._ It’s charming and incredibly annoying. Anger seems to be a pretense for her adoration, and according to her therapist, it’s an unhealthy coping mechanism. She’ll unpack that in her next session. For now, she needs to figure out how to handle Serena, because this whole “hating each other” thing is getting to be tiresome, and Bernie doesn’t think there is enough caffeine in the world to keep her endurance up.

It’s her third week, her _third week_ , and their arguments are already turning into screaming matches in front of the entire ward. Bernie just wants one normal day, _needs_ it, to tamp down the burn in her heart whenever Serena looks at her with derision. The staff are tense, the patient’s are curious, and Bernie doesn’t care because Serena Campbell is the most domineering, arrogant, _uptight_ -

“Ms. Wolfe, a little help please?”

It’s a demand, not a request. Bernie rolls her eyes as she gets up from her desk and makes her way over to Serena. She realizes it’s an incoming trauma and immediately feels her instincts take over, hoping that Serena will just let her do what she needs to without questioning every decision she makes.

She should have known better.

 

“He’s a trauma patient, Serena, he was in a bloody motorcycle accident!”

“Yes, but the injuries sustained to his leg are vascular, therefore he’s my patient and it’s my surgery.” Bernie knows better than to argue this one, she’ll never win; Serena still believes she has more power and Bernie doesn’t have the energy to sustain the feud right now.

When Serena requests her backup in theatre, she tells herself she won’t rub salt in the wound. She makes herself promise she won’t say: _Serena, I fucking told you so._ Tries to vow she won’t throw it back in Serena’s face one day. _Well, maybe._

But the minute they enter the locker room after the surgery, way past the end of their shifts, all hell breaks loose. Serena opens her locker too quickly, making it slam against the one next to it and filling the parts of the room not taken up by rancor. “Don’t think for a second that what you did back there is going to make me like you.”

Bernie grips the edge of her locker, trying to contain her anger before hastily grabbing her scrub top and pulling it off. “Why are you always so entitled? Doesn’t it ever get boring?”

“What does it feel like to constantly be gung-ho and pompous, parading around the ward all day?” Serena is facing her, and Bernie turns around to fully look in her in the eyes, forgetting her current state of undress.

Bernie holds one of her hands above her head, “I have had it up to _here_ with you-”

“And what are you gonna do about it, huh?” Serena’s eyes are fierce, insinuating a challenge. It’s a standstill, a few moments of neither of them moving, the only sound is their breathing.

Before Bernie realizes what she’s doing, she steps over the bench between them and grabs Serena’s face, pulling it to hers. Their lips meet in a crash, all teeth and tongue. It’s hot, it’s messy, and it is nowhere near what they did that one fateful night of connection. She feels Serena’s hands grab her bare waist, tries not to display how much it affects her. Bernie’s hands twine in Serena’s hair, tugging slightly and swallowing the moan that accompanies it. Serena slides her hand down, shoves it into Bernie’s scrub pants with no hesitation, immediately finding where Bernie needs her most. They both gasp, and Bernie moves her own hand, pushing Serena’s scrubs down slightly for the best angle.

It’s quick and chaotic, both of them on the verge far sooner than anticipated. Bernie bites down on Serena’s shoulder when she comes, has barely enough sense to put a hand over Serena’s mouth to drown out her whimper as she follows right behind. It’s over almost as quickly as it started, and they look at each other for a few moments before Serena pulls her pants back up and briskly walks out of the room.

_Shit, shit, shit-_

“I know it was stupid, Alex, you don’t have to tell me.”

_“Did she say anything after? Give any indication of your prior dalliance?”_

Bernie sighs, lays down on her couch and covers her eyes with her hand. She knows it was wrong, especially if Serena doesn’t remember. She really likes Serena, but she can’t diminish the animosity between them whenever they’re on the ward together. “None. She ran from the room like she ran from my flat that morning.”

_“Give her some space, she’ll come see you when she’s ready.”_

“Oh, I’ll give her more than space.”

_“Bernie-”_

Alex’s voice is overpowered by the knock that abruptly sounds from her front door. “Hold on, someone’s knocking at my door. I’ll have to ring you later.”

_“If it’s Serena, you owe me a pint.”_

“ _Goodbye_ , Alex.” She hangs up the phone and makes her way over to the door, opens it to find the subject of her teenage delusional fantasies, already allocating money for the drinks she knows she owes Alex.

“Serena? How do you know where I live?” It’s a taunt, Bernie knows it is, but she can’t help but stoke the fire. She watches a look of guilt appear on Serena’s face, immediately concealed with determination.

Serena fidgets, her hands pulling on the ends of her coat, a form of protection. “Can I come in?”

“Um, sure.” Bernie opens the door wider, makes room for Serena to slide past her. She closes the door behind them and faces Serena, an expectant look on her face.

“I need to tell you something.”

Bernie knows what Serena wants to talk about, but she fears it’s going to be the rejection she’s been waiting for _. I remember our one-night stand and our rendezvous in the locker room reminded me it wasn’t good, also I don’t like you and please put in your resignation tomorrow._ Bernie doesn’t want to hear it, but she knows she has to, yet that doesn’t mean she won’t stall for time. “Tea?”

“No, thank you.” Bernie thinks that’s the nicest thing Serena has ever said to her. Well, besides _you have the hands of-_

“Would you like to sit down?”

Serena nods and they move to the living room, sitting on the couch as far away from each other as it will allow. “I haven’t been honest with you, and after today, I think I might have been wrong with the way I went about it.”

“Let me guess, our wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am?”

Serena almost laughs, but Bernie can see her mouth press in a firm line to suppress it. “Bernie, what the hell?”

“Am I wrong?”

“…No.”

Bernie exhales slowly, still prepped and ready for rejection, an inevitable consequence. “Are you going to tell me why you lied?”

“I don’t really know why I did in the first place. On your first day, when I saw you standing in my office, it terrified me. Believe it or not, I’ve never been more than friends with a woman.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Serena ignores her and continues on. “That night we spent together was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time. No,” she points her finger at Bernie pointedly, “not just because of _that_. I felt immediately drawn to you, and I know how that sounds, but it’s true. I left you that morning before you woke up, so I didn’t have to think about what that meant. And then you started on the ward and I pretended like I didn’t remember you because I thought it would be easier that way, I thought I could ignore it.”

“But?”

“But I couldn’t. And I was angry at myself for how much I started to like you, so I lashed out. You just had the misfortune to be the one receiving it.”

“Well, I rather it be me than some poor F1. They didn’t sleep with you and then try and take over your ward.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but Bernie can hear the hurt in her own voice.

Serena frowns, moves a little closer. “I know you weren’t trying to take over my ward, Bernie. I’m sorry I ever accused you of doing so.”

“Is that all you’re sorry for?”

Serena rolls her eyes, “I’m also sorry for leaving you the morning after and pretending it didn’t happen and yelling at you in front of our colleagues. Happy?”

Bernie grins, basks in the apology that has been given to her. It sounded insincere, but she knows Serena meant it. “Yes.”

“Truce?”

“Truce.”

Serena reaches her hand out and Bernie immediately takes it with no hesitation. She knows Serena feels it too, the undercurrent running throughout their linked palms. It spreads, slowly firmly rooting itself inside them. There is no rejection, nor hurt feelings. Just intimacy, a gateway for devotion. Bernie thinks she might just fall in love with this Stranger, the one that intruded on her bed and her heart.

They come together once more, but not for the last, and they both know it. This time they aren’t drunk, they aren’t angry. This time, it’s passionate. Full of whispered secrets pilling forth in the night, forming a cocoon of affection and tenderness. Their hands are as warm as their hearts, finally sliding into place. Bernie feels that same connection to Serena as she did the first night, but this time it’s stronger. No longer fueled by whiskey and wine, a gentle beginning paving way.

Bernie smiles when she comes, and she lets Serena kiss it off her face.


	13. you're sending me smoke signals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena McKinnie was six years old the first time she witnessed the love of her life appear out of thin air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my gosh, a time traveler's wife au???? how original!!! i've been wanting to write this story for a long time now and i FINALLY got around to it. it was originally supposed to be full to the BRIM with angst but i decided to spare you guys the trouble. i have also become aware i use the oxford comma a bit too much, but i will not apologize for it, so you're just going to have to deal with it. <3
> 
> shoutout to the person who submitted the prompt on my tumblr about Bernie being there for Serena when her mother had dementia. i hear you, i see you, and i will write your story, i promise. just give me a bit of time to work it out. 
> 
> title from a song by a band i don't remember the name of, and i'm too lazy to look it up. if you really want to know, just ask, baby. enjoy!!!

Serena McKinnie was six years old the first time she met Berenice Wolfe.

She lived on an expanse of land with her parents, the kind of house with ghosts living in the walls and enough wooded areas surrounding the property to hide. No siblings, no pets, no one to keep her company. Frequent- and lonely- tea parties in her favorite flower field was a pastime of the sweltering summer days, getting dirt on her sundress and trying to hide it from her mother (she never could). She would dance around the poppies to the music in her head, symphonies of wonders that have yet to be discovered by her childhood.

She was six years old the first time she met Berenice Wolfe, and it was in that very same poppy field, with that very same tea set by her feet, when she first witnessed the love of her life appear out of thin air. One second she was admiring the high noon, the way the sun shines all around her, lighting up everything she can see, and the next, there she is. In jeans and a button-up, blonde hair blowing slightly in the breeze, the very sun she had just been admiring lighting up the eyes of this stranger. She’s older, an age Serena has no experience with. She should have been afraid, but she wasn’t. This young woman in a flannel shirt looked like home, like a domesticity a six-year-old had yet to encounter.

“Who are you?”

The woman smiles but doesn’t move. She keeps looking at Serena, like she’s admiring her. “I’m Bernie.”

“Isn’t that a man’s name?”

She chuckles, making a grin appear on Serena’s face at the sound. “Yes, I suppose so. But do you want to know a secret?”

Serena nods animatedly, takes a few steps forward. “I love secrets. I’m very good at keeping them.”

Bernie shuffles closer a little timidly, as if she’s afraid to get too near. She kneels in front of Serena, and in a dramatic whisper, “My real name is Berenice, but I think Bernie suits me better. Don’t you think?”

Serena giggles and nods. “Oh yes, Bernie is much better. Where did you come from?”

“That’s another secret you have to promise not to tell.”

Serena frowns, offended by this stranger’s question of her secret-keeping skills. “I promise!”

It’s another whisper, one that has Serena moving closer to this stranger, gravitated by her presence. “I came from the future. I travel through time.”

“There’s no such thing as time travel.” Serena crosses her arms, defends the laws of the universe in her pout.

“If you wait, you’ll be able to see me disappear for yourself.”

And just like that, as if on cue, Serena sees parts of Bernie start to disappear. It’s as if she’s disintegrating, evaporating into thin air like water that will soon fall back down to earth when the sky is grey and cloudy. Piece by piece, part by part, Serena watches her disappear.

 

And it continues like that. Every day Serena rushes to the poppy field and waits all day for Bernie to come back. Some days she does, and some days she doesn’t. Every time Bernie is wearing different clothes, some version of a shirt and jeans Serena doesn’t understand or recognize. She is usually a different age every time, a mix of younger and older. She’s never seen her over the age of what she presumes to be a no older than her parents, wonders why that is. Bernie doesn’t talk about herself much, prefers to let Serena tell her about the marvels of her days, full of childlike loneliness and a grandeur wish to see the world around her.

On Bernie’s fourth visit, Serena gets a little glimpse into the future. Today Bernie is the oldest she’s ever been, hair short, and her smile deep.

“What’s the future like, Bernie?”

“Big and full of adventure. Do you want to know another secret?”

“Please!”

“You and I are friends in the future, when you’re a lady.” She smiles, but Serena notices it’s not as wide as it usually is, eyes not as bright. She doesn’t think about it too much, assumes it’s a part of getting older, a territory she doesn’t understand yet.

“When I’m all grown up?”

“When you’re all grown up.”

“I can’t wait to meet you.” Bernie laughs, but Serena doesn’t understand the joke. She shrugs and keeps asking questions about this woman she feels safe around.

 

It is not until Serena is eight when she finally summons the courage to ask Bernie more about her time traveling, what it’s like.

“Why do you only come sometimes?” They’re sitting down on a blanket, side by side, watching the sun set below the rolling hills, letting it light the day for a few more minutes before Serena has to go back home. Bernie’s older today too, a few lines appearing around her mouth when she smiles. Serena can’t wait to have the same lines on her face one day, can’t wait to be the same age as her companion.

“I can’t control it, it just happens whenever it wants to.”

Serena looks down and starts playing with imaginary threads on the blanket, her voice small and timorous. “Do you like it when you appear here?”

Bernie smiles down at her, affection pure on her face. “I do.”

“Me too.” Serena smiles, watches as her best friend fades away.

 

On her birthday ten years later, full of snapshots with Bernie, Serena feels like she’s in the wrong place. Her parents have just lit her birthday cake, but she apologizes profusely and runs out the backdoor, towards the poppy field. It’s cold today, clouds rolling over the sky and causing it to darken. But then she sees Bernie when she reaches the field, standing at the edge of the woods, and Serena feels warm.

“Bernie, you made it!”

“How could I miss my favorite girl’s eighteenth birthday?” They walk towards each other, enveloping each other into a quick hug.

“Your favorite girl?” She smiles shyly, looks at Bernie from underneath her eyelashes. Bernie is wearing black trousers and a crisp, white oxford shirt today, a loose bow tie hanging around her neck. She’s younger this time, closer to Serena’s own age, but her hair is just as curly and just as messy. Serena smiles.

“Always have been, always will be.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

On her eighteenth birthday, Bernie kisses Serena for the first time, and it feels like everything in Serena’s life so far has been working up to this point. Every moment with Bernie throughout her childhood has been preparing her for this moment, when their lips touch for the first time. It is gentle and sweet, everything a first kiss should be. Her hand comes up to grab at Bernie’s waist, but finds empty air instead. She pulls back and sees Bernie starting to disappear.

She frowns and tries to grab Bernie’s hand, finds that it’s gone too. “You’re leaving?”

Bernie smiles, a soft pain appearing in her eyes. “Happy birthday, Serena. This will be the last time you see me for a while, and the next time you do, I probably won’t know you. You’ll have to remind me.”

“Where are you going?”

This time Bernie smirks, a small wink on her fading face. “I have a wedding to catch.”

 

Nobody told Serena how hard med school was going to be, but she really can’t complain. It’s tough, and it’s unforgiving, but it’s what she wants. She’s twenty-two, studying medicine at Cambridge, and feels on top of the world. It’s her last year and she wants to celebrate, but she feels like a part of her is missing. A hole within herself that she can never quite fill, devoid of the very thing she wants most. She misses Bernie, looks for her everywhere she goes, always trying to find the woman she’s known for years but knows so little about.

She has the late shift at the library tonight, a quiet hush settling over the occupants as they cram their studies and overconsume caffeine. It’s peaceful, it’s melancholy, and it’s not enough. She hears the front doors open, the cold wind hitting her face, but she doesn’t look up from the book she’s reading. It’s not until she sees familiar blonde curls in her peripheral that she does. She’s perusing a shelf, hiding her face in the old spines of medical journals. Serena doesn’t even realize she’s moving until she taps on the girl’s shoulder. When she turns around, Serena gasps, eyes filling with tears.

“It’s you.”

Bernie frowns, a look of concern crossing over her face. “Sorry?”

“I’m Serena.”

“Do I know you?”

Serena smiles gently, lets a lone tear fall down the side of her cheek. She found her. “Not yet, but you will.”

 

They’re sitting across from each other in a twenty-four-hour diner, the _Open_ sign illuminating the shadows that fall upon them in the night. Serena can’t stop staring at this Bernie, the one she had yet to meet, the one she has yet to know. Serena doesn’t think she’s ever seen her this young, a youthful glow about her face that Serena has yet to behold. Bernie sips from her mug and breaks Serena’s silent reverie.

“How do you know about me…” She trails off, letting the silence sit again.

“Time traveling?”

Bernie looks around, a cursory glance of the diner to see if anybody overheard. “Yes, _that_.”

“You told me.”

“But I’ve never met you before.”

Serena chuckles, a light sound, as if she’s afraid to break the quiet again; afraid to break the moment she has found herself in. “For somebody who time travels, you really have no concept of the way it works.”

“Was I older?”

“Yes, I haven’t seen you this young in quite some time,” her voice is full of wonder, openly staring at Bernie’s face, and voicing her earlier thoughts, “you used to visit me when I was a child.”

“When was the first time?”

“I was six.”

“And the last?” Bernie seems afraid to ask, like she doesn’t want to know the answer. Like she knows it was one of hurt and trepidation.

Serena frowns slightly at the memory, remembering the last time she saw Bernie leave her. “My eighteenth birthday. But you know, I’ve always wondered something. When I was twelve you told me you go back to the same place a lot.”

Bernie nods, “Yes, it’s like gravity. Big events seem to pull me in.”

“Are you saying I’m a big event?”

She smiles. “I think you will be.”

 

Serena’s first kiss with Bernie was tender, full of longing. A small moment of devotion in time, a pinpoint of a beginning.

This kiss was the opposite. It is fierce, visceral, a fountain of emotions that have been waiting to spill over the edges of their bodies for years, whether or not they knew it. They’ve only just stepped inside Serena’s flat, barely pushing the door closed, but Serena has waited four years to do this and she won’t waste another moment. They stumble into the hallway, blindly searching for a bedroom and vigil. When Serena pushes Bernie to sit down on the bed, moving to straddle her lap, Bernie breaks the kiss and looks up at her.

“Isn’t this strange? Won’t it be a bit odd for you?”

Serena smiles, gently stroking Bernie’s hair behind her ear and cupping her cheek. “I’ve been waiting for a very long time. Now shut up and kiss me.”

It’s not until much later, when Bernie has put her shirt back on to get a glass of water from the kitchen, that Serena recognizes the flannel she is wearing. “Bernie, put your pants on.”

She turns around, a questioning smile on her face. “What?”

“Put your pants on. You’re going to need them.” Serena’s voice is solemn, remembering the heartache that accompanies Bernie’s time traveling escapades. She’s never been on the other side before. She never thought she would feel jealous of her younger self.

“It’s about to happen, isn’t it?”

Serena nods, watches as Bernie pulls her jeans back on and sits down on the bed next to her. “It’ll be the first time I meet you.”

“Is young Serena just as feisty as older Serena?”

“Feistier.”

Bernie chuckles, but her eyes are sad. “Can’t wait to meet her.”

Serena never forgot how hard it was to watch Bernie fade away from her, even if it is to see herself, and she finds it is no easier. She finally found her again, after all these years, but she goes to sleep alone and colder than she’s ever felt, the warmth of Bernie’s lingering presence in the bed beside her not strong enough. She’s been waiting all her life for Bernie, but it never occurred to her she would have to keep waiting even when she found her.

 

She wakes up the next morning to a weight on her chest, looks down to see Bernie back in bed with her. She smiles, lifts her hand to start slowly running it through Bernie’s strands again, just as silky as she imagined them to be. Bernie stirs, slowly wakes to the feeling of tranquility, unused to the feeling of love. Serena’s voice sounds from above her.

“Everything you thought it would be?”

She smiles up at her, “And more.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll leave again today, if the hickey on your collarbone is anything to go by. I remember seeing it, had absolutely no clue what it was.” She feels a slight shaking, Bernie chuckling.

“You remember every time I’ve visited you?”

“Of course, I even wrote them down too.” Bernie doesn’t say anything, just hums as Serena continues threading through her hair. She doesn’t say anything about the tear that trails down her face, and Serena doesn’t mention it when she feels it fall onto her collarbone.

 

She’s baking an apple pie when she feels arms circle around her waist from behind. She jumps, nearly drops the fork she’s holding on her foot. Her heartbeat calms when she turns and finds a smiling Bernie.

“Can you wear louder shoes please?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Serena wraps her arms around Bernie’s neck, keeping her close, admires the way the black sweater she’s wearing fits her frame. “Where did you go this time?”

“Future.” Bernie’s troubled expression worries her, makes her wonder what Bernie saw.

“Bad?”

“No, just not the best.”

She pulls Bernie into a hug, squeezes tightly. “Everything alright?”

She feels Bernie squeeze back and hold her just a fraction closer. “I hope so.”

 

It never occurred to Serena that a future Bernie would still visit her, too preoccupied with the Bernie that’s in the present.

She’s watching Netflix on the couch, time idling by until her partner comes back to her. She feels a presence appear next to her, expects to find Bernie sitting next to her, but it’s not. Well, it is, but it’s not _her_ Bernie. Her _present_ Bernie. It’s an older Bernie, late thirties maybe. Through her perusal, she notices her hands. Callouses evident with a lingering softness, and she hopes that means Bernie was able to follow through with her goals.

She smirks. “Well, well, well. Look at what the cat dragged in.”

Bernie turns to her smugly, “Look at the cat.” Serena chuckles and mutes the television, slides a little closer to a Bernie she hasn’t lived with yet.

“Having a good time in the future I hope?” She knows what she’s asking, and she knows Bernie understands as well. Her grin falters a bit, not unnoticed by Serena.

“As well as I can be.”

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing for you to worry about, not yet. Just be patient with her, Serena. Life hasn’t been too kind to her.” Before she can ask what Bernie means, she’s already starting to wane, a lunar eclipse in the bright living room. Even this Bernie is aloof, not giving an explanation to her words. This may not be her Bernie, not yet, but Serena still feels the same pang that goes along with the vanishing act.

 

Serena says it for the first time when they’re in bed together. Bernie’s hand is between her thighs, moans the only sound filling up the four walls of their bedroom (because it is _their_ bedroom now, even if it isn’t official or they haven’t talked about it yet- Serena thinks of it as theirs). She’s right there, she’s so close, and the words tumble from her lips almost without her realizing. Either Bernie didn’t hear it, or she chose to not acknowledge it, just keeps working Serena down as her panting tapers out.

Fifteen minutes later, Serena pillowed on Bernie’s chest, she repeats the words.

“I do love you, you know. I didn’t say that just because you were about to give me a really good orgasm.” She feels Bernie’s answering laugh, relishes in the hands softly sliding through her hair, a brown spotlight in the night.

“I know. Me too.”

Bernie doesn’t say it back, not exactly, and it hurts a little. She knows how Bernie feels and she knows what they mean to each other, but sometimes she wants to hear it. Serena would never punish her for not talking about her feelings, would never hold it against her, but it still hurts a little. A wiser Bernie’s words suddenly ring through her mind. _Be patient with her, Serena._ She lets that mantra lull her to sleep, tries not to stutter awake when the body below her disappears.

 

Seven months later and Serena’s lying in bed, waiting for Bernie to finish brushing her teeth in the bathroom. It’s been a long day, both exhausted after hours of training at the hospitals where they work. When Bernie walks out, fresh and clean, Serena still feels that same flutter in her heart. Bernie pauses at the foot of the bed before she starts pacing and wringing her hands together.

“Bernie, what’s wrong?”

She doesn’t stop pacing, just briefly glances at Serena before looking back down at the ground she’s treading. “You know how I feel about you, right?”

“Of course I do. Why do you ask?” Serena sits up, anxiety taking over her body, melting into her bones until it is the only thing she feels. Bernie finally stops and takes a deep breath, slow on the exhale.

“For my entire life, I’ve been lonely. Nobody has ever understood what happens to me and what I’ve gone through. Except for you, that is.”

“Alright.”

Bernie walks over to Serena’s side of the bed and sits down next to her. “What I’m trying to say is…  what I mean is… I want you to-”

Serena cups Bernie’s face with her hand, forcing their eyes together. “Bernie, look at me, darling. It’s okay. Whatever you’re trying to say, it’s okay.”

“What I’m trying to say is I don’t feel alone anymore, and I never want to again.” Bernie reaches into the pocket of her pajamas and pulls out a velvet box. Serena stares at it, wide eyed. She feels the tears fall before she even knew they were there.

“Bernie?” Her voice is hoarse, feels a bit tight. She can’t manage anymore words as an intense feeling of happiness washes over her, replacing the previous worry in waves.

Bernie smiles with watery eyes, finally asking the question, “Will you marry me?”

“Of course I will.” It’s barely more than a whisper. Serena feels afraid to break the bubble they’ve found themselves in, the soft glow of the bedside lamp the only witness to their love.

 

Bernie slides up behind Serena, tries not to step on her pristine train, and covers her eyes with her hands. “Guess who?”

Serena gasps and turns around, relief overcoming her features. “I thought you were going to miss the damn ceremony.”

“Never. I just had to wish somebody a happy birthday and deliver her present.” Bernie smirks and pulls on her suit jacket sitting on a nearby chair. Serena watches her, lost in the memory of their first kiss.

“That’s where you were?”

Bernie nods and takes Serena’s hands in her own. “And now I’m here. Ready?”

She nods her head, “Ready.”

 

She’s chopping vegetables when she hears a crash come from the bedroom, doesn’t even startle this time, just keeps on slicing celery. “Bernie, is that you?”

“A version of me, at least.” Serena turns around and an older Bernie walks into the kitchen, looking around as is if recalling her own memories from this space.

“Oh, hello. How far into the future are you from this time?”

Bernie comes around the counter and leans against it as she watches Serena turn back to the vegetables. “The oldest I’ve ever been. I actually just got back from visiting you. You were still six years old.”

“And then you came here?” Serena’s surprised, that’s never happened before.

Bernie nods, “And then I came here. Bit of shock for me too, actually. I almost never go from one part of the past to a different one, but maybe I just wanted to see you. An older you.”

Serena puts down the knife and looks at her, smiles a little cheekily. “Isn’t there an even older version of me waiting for you? One that has matching frown lines?”

Bernie laughs properly and Serena smiles, is glad to know the sound doesn’t change. “Sometimes I forget just how feisty you were.”

“Are you saying I get less feisty with old age?”

“No, it’s just a bit more tame.” Bernie smirks, but Serena can see it doesn’t reach her eyes. They’re sad again, similar to the last time she was this age and visited her.

“What’s got you so upset? Don’t look so surprised, last time I saw you around this age you seemed sad then too.”

Bernie hesitates with her answer, choosing her words carefully. “Yes, that was last week for me. It’s just been tough in my present lately.”

“Did I do something?”

Bernie comes closer and puts her hands on Serena’s shoulders to look her straight in the eye. “No, it wasn’t you. I just made some poor decisions and I think they’re finally catching up with me.”

“I know you can’t tell me anything, so I won’t ask, but knowing us and our lack of good communication when we’re upset, a wrong decision was probably made. So just do me a favor and go back to her, okay? I don’t care what I did, I don’t care what you did. We love each other enough to not let something, even _time travel_ , stand in our way. Got it?” Serena looks pointedly at her, the steel in her eyes leaving no room for arguments. Bernie stares at her for a moment, a look of awe on her face. She nods one final time.

“Got it.”

“Good. How long do you think you’ll be here? I’m making your favorite.”

 

After that, the years go by as they start to age together. It’s hard for Serena sometimes, never knowing when she’ll have Bernie and when she won’t. She cherishes each moment they have together even more, tries to make sure it hurts a little less when they aren’t (it never works).

It comes as no surprise to anybody when they start working in the same hospital, relocating to the quaint town of Holby, preferring the quiet life as they get older. They buy a house and plant poppies in the back garden, a sweet symbol of their humble beginnings. They start on the same ward, seamlessly fitting themselves into the hustle and bustle of the Acute Admissions Unit. It’s just as practical as it is romantic, when Serena admires Bernie as she stares at her to make sure she doesn’t dwindle out of existence during a surgery. Someone needs to cover for her when she inevitably does, and it’s difficult. Serena hates the lying, but she knows Bernie wants this more than anything, the chance to save people. Her martyrdom would be a bit depressing if she wasn’t so good at it.

It’s also no surprise when they move up the ranks together, perfecting their techniques and specialties, eventually becoming the two youngest co-leads in the hospital. Married or not, they’re damn good at their jobs. Every second they’ve spent training and preparing leads to them being a team, even after all these years.

They try and leave work at work, keep home at home, but they keep bleeding into each other. They find themselves bickering in their office about Bernie disappearing during last night’s dinner, have heated discourses in their bedroom over their most recent patients. It’s starting to wear on them, especially Serena. She knows what she means to Bernie, she really does, but after all this time, Bernie still has yet to say it. Those three words, the ones Bernie has never said, never returned to her. She didn’t even say them on their wedding day, a present Serena was hoping to receive. She doesn’t blame Bernie, because she knows how hard it is for her to not only discuss her feelings, but how hard it is to feel like _this_ about somebody and having to leave them all the time. Bernie tends to express it in more tactile ways, whispers of reverence kissed onto Serena’s skin in the dead of night.

But it’s not the same and it’s not easy, because it seems the older they get the more Bernie is gone. It’s always the worst when she’s gone at night, leaving Serena in an empty house and a cold bed. Her wedding ring feels heavy on her finger, a firm reminder of the thing she loves most, the thing she can never fully have. They don’t ever really talk about where Bernie goes anymore, at the most it’s Serena asking which time period it was. It’s either the past or the future, one or two syllables for Bernie to pronounce as they try and forget the three days she was gone.

 

Serena walks through the front door and makes her way to the kitchen, nearly drops her bag in surprise when she sees Bernie sitting at the counter and nursing a whiskey. “You’re back.” Bernie turns around at the indignation lacing her tone.

“Did I miss Christmas?”

Serena walks to the wine cabinet and pulls out a bottle of Shiraz. She doesn’t respond until the cork is already out, “It was two days ago. Your present is still under the tree.”

Bernie sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” It’s curt and she moves to leave the kitchen before Bernie can question it, but she feels a hand grab her elbow gently. She turns to see Bernie’s look of contrition, one she doesn’t need right now.

“Hey, I said I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, but it doesn’t change the fact that you weren’t here. It doesn’t change the fact that you keep leaving me to run a ward on my own, one we are supposed to run _together_ , might I remind you. The staff keeps asking questions and I don’t have answers for them because you just keep _disappearing_.”

Bernie drops her elbow and throws her hands in the air with a huff, irritation stealing her gaze. “I travel through time, okay? I can’t control it, it just _happens_ , and I wish I didn’t. You know that.”

“Yes, I do.” Serena turns around again and walks into the living room, Bernie following close behind.

“Can we talk about this please? I don’t want to spend the rest of the holidays with you mad at me.”

Serena spins on her heel and Bernie takes a step back when she sees the fire in her eyes, flames licking away at her pupils. “What do you want to talk about? How _bad_ it feels to sit here and wait for you?”

“Serena, I know that isn’t what you-”

“Do you think I _wanted_ this life? Do you think I wanted a wife who disappears at any given moment of any given day? Who would want that? Who would choose that?”

Bernie’s eyes harden, voice low. “You have a choice.”

“I’ve never had a choice, not when it comes to you.” Serena shakes her and looks down, the fight draining out of her, seeping into the carpet of their home. Bernie moves closer, tips Serena’s chin up to look her in the eyes.

“I don’t want you to spend your life waiting for me.”

Serena steps back and looks away again, misses Bernie’s warmth and misses the hurt on Bernie’s face. “There’s not much to be done about it now.” She feels Bernie straighten more than she sees it, can sense the resolution before she can even say it.

“There is, though.” Before Serena can ask her what she’s implying, Bernie storms out of the living room, grabs her keys, and walks out the front door with a slam. It reverberates into Serena’s heart, the vibrations making it splinter. The sound of a car engine revving shatters it.

 

She drives to Cambridge on a Saturday afternoon and tries not to cry when her first dance song with Bernie from their wedding comes on the radio. She goes back to the library, looks at the same shelf she was standing in front of when she met _her_ Bernie for the first time. It’s confusing, thinking of a younger Bernie as her Bernie, finds it difficult to connect past, present, and future with all these varying versions of her wife coming in and out of her life. It’s in her peripheral yet again, a head of messy blonde hair. She thinks it might be déjà vu or a trick of the light, but she turns and indeed finds a youthful, confused looking Bernie in a black sweater a few feet away from her.

“Bernie? Is that you?”

Bernie turns at the sound of her voice and grins. “Serena? Look at you! Late thirties? I love guessing your age.”

Serena returns her smile and nods her head, “I know you do. I haven’t seen you this young in a while. How are you?”

Bernie flushes and her grin turns shy. “I’m good. Really good.”

“If that blush is anything to go by, I think I know where you just came from.” She quirks an eyebrow and appreciates the way Bernie’s blush seems to spread and deepen.

“Is she here?” Serena knows who she’s talking about, knows that Bernie doesn’t like seeing herself in different timelines.

She hides the pain in her eyes, refuses to disrupt this Bernie’s happiness. She remembers when she felt like that too. “No, she’s not.”

“Let me know if she’s supposed to be, okay?”

“Bernie…” Serena can’t keep the twinge out of her voice and winces when Bernie shuffles closer and puts a hand on her elbow.

“Serena, what is it?”

“She won’t be here anytime soon. I actually haven’t seen her for quite some time now.”

“How long?” It’s a whispered horror, this young Bernie’s worst nightmare.

“A while. We had a fight, and I may have said something that made her think I didn’t want to be with her anymore. I don’t know where she is. She hasn’t even been going to work.”

Bernie sighs dejectedly, “So I still have issues with running away from my problems, even in the future.”

“It seems so.”

“She loves you, Serena. I know she does.” The hope in Bernie’s voice does nothing to calm her distress, a constant comrade that has followed her since Bernie slammed their front door shut behind her.

“I know.” Because she does know, but it’s been so long, and Bernie has still never told her so.

“Just be patient with her, okay? She’s tough, _bloody_ tough, but I think she’s also scared. We’ve never had somebody care about us in the way you do. Give her a bit more time and she’ll come back to you.”

Serena rolls her eyes, “I’ve never really thought of _time_ being in our favor.”

“She’ll come back to you. We always do.” The Bernie of her youth hugs her and starts to fade. It’s still there, the longing and bitter sweetness that accompanies this phenomenon every time it happens. She’s grateful for every single version of Bernie she’s experienced, thankful for each one in her life, but the one she misses most is the one with a ring on her finger and laugh lines around her mouth. The one that belongs in their bed every night.

_Be patient with her, be patient with her, be patient with her._

 

It’s February and it’s cold, but Serena doesn’t care. She’s standing in the back garden, looking at the space where she plants poppies with Bernie every spring. She hears a twig snap behind her and turns to see Bernie coming through the back gate, rushing towards her. Before she can even say a word, Bernie has her wrapped in a bone-crushing hug, arms tight around her neck. She can’t help but squeeze back, feels the emptiness in her heart slowly starting to fill again. “Bernie?”

“I’ve missed you.” It’s barely a whisper, and she probably wouldn’t have heard it if Bernie’s mouth wasn’t right next to her ear. Serena pulls back but keeps Bernie close, surveying her face for signs of the present.

“Is this _you_ , you, or a slightly younger you?”

“It’s me. I’m here.”

Serena takes step back, trying to put distance between them even though that’s all there has been lately. “Are you?”

Bernie follows her, trying to keep her near. “I’m so sorry for what I did. I left because I didn’t want to hurt you anymore, but I know now that I just hurt you more by leaving. I’m always leaving you.”

Serena shakes her head earnestly, “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. What made you come back, though?”

“I just had a conversation with two different versions of you. One reminded me that we’ve both waited a very long time for this, and one reminded me of what I have waiting for me back home. I’m not leaving you anymore, I’m here to stay, time traveling episodes notwithstanding. I love you, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”

Her blood starts to pound in her ears, a small moment of respite appearing in her vision. “What did you just say?”

Bernie frowns, “I want to be with you for the rest of my life?”

Serena closes her eyes and shakes her head while trying to keep her tears at bay. “No, the other part. Right before that.”

“Oh,” understanding dawns on Bernie’s face and she grabs Serena’s arms, pulling her close once more, “I love you, Serena. Always have been, always will be.”

Serena finally lets the tears fall. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that.”

“I know it is. All these years I’ve been too afraid to voice it because I thought it would just end up hurting both of us in the end, but I’m not afraid anymore. I’m here to stay, if you’ll have me?”

Serena has never seen so much hope in another person’s eyes. She’s reminded of a day when she was six and asking Bernie what the future was like and thinks it’s the same kind of hope, a longing for a wish to come true. Serena pulls her closer, a fond smile appearing. “Even if I had the choice, I wouldn’t change a single day.”

 

It’s not until two months later when Serena realizes Bernie has yet to disappear again, has yet to leave her alone. She looks away from the medical journal she’s reading and asks the question on her mind.

“Bernie, do you think?” Looking up from her own novel, head in Serena’s lap, Bernie beams at her.

“Yes, I think so.” Serena marks her page and sets her the journal on the side table. She grabs Bernie and holds her close.

Later that night, when their skin is flushed and cooling down, wrapped in each other’s arms, Serena McKinnie thanks whatever deity she needs to for bringing Berenice Wolfe into her life.


	14. quiet when i'm coming home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She tries not to wonder why she showed up here, now, of all days, after so many years of nothing. She didn’t think the ghosts could appear outside of the house, figured they were confined to their resting place. Serena has put Hill House in the back of her mind, choosing not to dwell on ghosts that haunt her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a Hill House berena au???? you betcha. it's short and not sweet, but i felt compelled to write this as soon as i finished watching the show. if you haven't seen or heard of Hill House, i highly recommend it for a good spook and unwanted sad emotions. it's great. 
> 
> slight trigger warning for death and hints of mental illness. 
> 
> i honestly don't even remember what song this title came from. oops.

Hill House was Serena’s least favorite house her parents have ever made her live in. The walls are squishy with black mold and the statues seem to follow her with their eyes. Her parents promised her, _we’ll only be here for a couple of months, and then we can find our forever house,_ but every day there is a new problem and every night there is a new evil. Forces bang on the walls and things rattle her locked doorknob, a constant stream of terror flooding through her veins and keeping her awake at night.

She knows that her parents like fixing houses, but she doesn’t understand why they had to fix _this_ house. It’s old and it’s cold, it’s dark and it’s dreary, and it is way too much space for only three people. The blueprints don’t add up with the actual floor plan and there always seems to be a new nook or cranny for somebody to get lost in. Serena feels like she’s constantly being watched with every corner she turns and in every room she finds. It’s unnerving.

Her parents don’t even believe her about what she sees at night, what she hears. They’re oblivious, insist it’s the cat or a trick of the light, but they don’t even have a cat. Maybe it’s preteen insistence or anger over their blatant denial, but it’s frustrating being told what you see isn’t real. _You’re just dreaming. Go back to bed._ But she’s not dreaming, she know she isn’t. She knows the blonde lady in the Red Room is real.

It’s the only thing with color in the house. An ominous door at the end of a short hallway, constantly taunting her with its presence. The first time she goes in there, she immediately knows she isn’t supposed to. The door has been locked since they moved in last month, but this morning Serena found a key underneath her pillow that was definitely not there when she went to bed. No key has worked so far- not even the master key, and Serena will be damned if she doesn’t try this one out. She thinks it’s better to know than _not_ to know, and the thought makes her feel a little safer, because she hasn’t felt safe since they moved in.

The key fits into the lock perfectly, turning smoothly and opening the door, but what she finds is a bit underwhelming. Serena pushes the door open wider and all that stares back at her is an empty room. She makes her way inside just to be sure, but no, nothing is in here. She was hoping for something cool, like a chest full of antiques or maybe even a dance studio, but it’s _empty_. Four dirty walls, hardwood floor, and one small window.

All of a sudden the door slams shut behind her and she yelps. She tries to open it, but it won’t budge despite her efforts.

“It doesn’t open unless I want it to.”

Serena whirls back around a scream gets caught in her throat. There’s a woman there, right in front of the window, staring at the gardens it overlooks. The woman seems to have a sickly color to her, a gray sheen to her skin that makes her look pale and… dead.

“Who are you? Why can’t I open the door?” Serena stutters and hates the way her voice breaks. It makes her sound small and afraid, which is the last thing she wants to be.

The woman turns away from the window and starts walking around the room, following the walls. “1902. Never forming anything solid.”

“ _What_?”

“It doesn’t open unless I want it to.”

Serena nearly yells, frustration grabbing her by the shoulders. “Yes, you said that. Why won’t you let me out?”

“I live here.”

“No, you don’t, I do.” It sounds a bit childish, but she _does_ live here. She doesn’t know who this woman is, or where she came from, but Serena is pretty sure this woman isn’t supposed to be here.   

“This room is mine.”

Serena tries to ignore her fear and keeps the woman talking instead, trying to form an escape plan. “Is that why it’s always locked?”

“Unless I don’t want it to be.”

She’s curious, half afraid to ask the question on the tip of her tongue. “Why did you let me in?”

“It’s time to come home, Serena.”

Serena tries to ignore the way those words make her feel. She doesn’t like how _right_ it sounds, doesn’t understand the feeling of tranquility making its way into her body. “How do you know my name? What do you mean it’s time to come home?”

The woman finally looks at her. “Time is not a straight line. I don’t remember how old I’m supposed to be.”

The door opens behind her and Serena runs out without a second look back. She remembers the legend of Orpheus; there is no way in hell that woman is her Eurydice.

 

She tries not to think about it. In the grand scheme of things, constantly pondering a ghost sounds insane. But this isn’t just a ghost, or a spirit, this is a soul that has chosen her. Serena’s parents tried opening the Red Room after she told them about her experience, friendly and slightly spooky encounter with a ghost omitted.

But it remained locked. Serena doesn’t know how or why, but that woman chose her.

 

Serena finds herself standing outside the Red Room for a second time in the middle of night. She couldn’t fall sleep, and at 12:03, she felt the strangest urge to come here. She can’t find the key she used the first time to open the door, but she somehow knows she won’t need it.

She hears the lock turn, and the red door slowly cracks itself open. She doesn’t hesitate to walk inside and doesn’t even startle when the blonde woman is already there. Serena is asking a question before she even knew her mouth was open.

“How long have you been here?”

The woman turns away from the small window she seems to favor and faces Serena. “I was fifty-one when I died in this house, but it’s been so long I don’t remember how old I’m supposed to be.”

“What year were you born?”

“1902.”

Serena barely suppresses the gasp; her thoughts are confirmed. She knew this house wasn’t safe, the pipes and ceilings filled to the brim with harm from the past. “Is that why you’re wearing funny clothes?” Loose trousers and a billowy white shirt, suspenders holding everything together. Serena doesn’t think this was the standard dress for a woman in the early 1900’s, but she likes the way it looks.

The woman ignores Serena’s question. “Time is not a straight line. It goes forward and loops back around, takes a left at the light and then down the next road. Time follows no one, it’s all just snow. It sprinkles around us in snapshots, never forming anything solid.”

The blonde woman in the Red Room is always speaking out of order, sentences and answers trying to find where they belong in the concept of time, falling down around Serena like confetti. Serena likes confetti.

 

They leave in the middle of the night.

Serena is sleeping peacefully for the first time in weeks, but her mother rushes into her room and rouses her. Her eyes are blearily trying to comprehend what’s happening, but all she sees is her mother shushing her and not even trying to hide the tear tracks on her face. That’s how she knows something is wrong.

“Mum?”

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay, but we have to leave now.” Her mother is pulling her out of her bed and making her stand up, hands clenching a little too tightly on her arms.

“Why? What happened?”

Adrienne doesn’t respond, just whispers, “ _Now_.”

“Mum, you’re scaring me.” Serena is whispering now, too. There’s a strange noise coming from down the hall, getting closer.

“I want you to get on my back, hold on tight, and keep your eyes closed. Do you understand me? Keep them closed.” Serena nods and climbs onto her mother’s back, arms wrapping around her shoulders and bracing herself for whatever is on the other side of that door. She wrenches her eyes shut when Adrienne’s hand turns the knob and starts running down the hallway, down the staircase, and towards the front door. Serena hears a distant shouting, coming from something that is trying to catch up with them. She thinks she recognizes the voice.

“Mum, where’s Dad?”

“ _Closed_.”

Serena obeys and keeps her eyes closed until Adrienne puts her down by the car and they climb inside. She looks back at Hill House as they drive away. She sees a figure in the window, short blonde hair framing her face. She turns back around to face the road and tries to forget the sound of her father yelling. _Stay! We’re home! Don’t take her away from me!_

 

_MAD MCKINNIE’S: SUICIDE OR ANOTHER HILL HOUSE MURDER?_ screams at her from the morning paper, yet another headline detailing what supposedly happened the night Serena was forced from her bed and out the doors of Hill House. It’s the day of her father’s funeral, and she thinks reporters would have a bit more class not to print something like that on the same day.

Her mother grabs the paper from the table and chucks it into the garbage bin. “It’s absolutely rubbish. They have no idea what they’re talking about. They have no idea what happened that night.”

She stares her mother down, a glint in her eyes daring Adrienne to tell the truth. “Neither do I.”

“Hill House is behind us now, Serena. We can only keep moving forward, and I suggest you start doing so.”

But Serena feels like that’s the exact opposite of what she’ll do. Her mother refuses to provide an explanation or clarity, leaving Serena in the dark and forcing her to complete the puzzle.

 

The first time Serena sees the blonde woman outside of the Red Room is the day she gets married. She’s minutes away from walking down the aisle and alone for the first time today. She needs these few moments of respite; the importance of the day seems to be looming over her head and slightly cutting off her air supply. She walks over to the full length mirror in the corner of the room to do one last check before she makes her way to the man she’s going to spend the rest of her life with.

She picks an imaginary piece of lint from the bottom of her dress, and when she flits her eyes back up to look at her face, she nearly yells. She’s there, over Serena’s shoulder, silently watching. Their eyes meet, brown meeting brown in a simpatico of emptiness, and Serena quickly turns around to ask why she’s here.

But she’s gone.

Serena turns to the mirror again and then back to the other side of the room, but she’s gone. She tries not to wonder why she showed up here, now, of all days, after so many years of nothing. She didn’t think the ghosts could appear outside of the house, figured they were confined to their resting place. Serena has put Hill House in the back of her mind, choosing not to dwell on ghosts that haunt her past. She thinks about walking down the aisle instead and doesn’t focus on how wrong it feels.

 

The second time Serena sees the blonde woman is the day she finds out she’s pregnant with Elinor. She’s sitting on the toilet with her head in her hands and tears in her eyes. The pregnancy test is on the counter beside her, two little lines taunting her. She wants this, of course she wants a baby, she just doesn’t want it with Edward. He’s been coming home later and later with excuses of work hanging off his lips and doing nothing to disguise the alcohol on his breath. Serena had just met with a divorce lawyer and gone over her options, but she can’t do it now. She won’t do that to her child, because she knows what it’s like to grow up without a father.

She takes a deep breath and stands up, slowly coming back to herself. Edward is going to be home soon, so he says, and she needs a little bit of time to build up the façade she’s been living behind. She opens the bathroom door but pauses on the threshold.

She’s here.

Serena doesn’t have to look to know she’s here, just at the end of the hallway, but she does anyway. She looks the exact same, nothing about her has changed. Serena feels a sudden pull, something deep within her forcing her to take a step towards the blonde lady, the same one that made her go back inside the Red Room all those years ago, when she lived in Hill House.

She’s three steps away from being close enough to touch, but the front door opens and Edwards voice rings out.

“No, please don’t-”

But she is already gone.

 

She appears during Elinor’s birth, of all things. Serena is on her second push and three seconds away from passing out, but she feels an unexpected feeling of calm come over her. She glances up and right behind Edward, she is there. She doesn’t move, never talks, just stares. She always stares at Serena, not once looking away from her eyes. The doctor doesn’t regain her attention until the third time he repeats himself, telling her to push again. She screams this time.

She forgets about it until her daughter is here, snuggled safely into her chest in a pink blanket. Serena looks back where the woman appeared behind Edward, but it’s only empty air.

 

The next time seems insignificant, but Serena knows she wouldn’t come if it wasn’t important. She wakes at 12:03 and sits up, sees a dark figure standing in front of the open window, a slight breeze billowing the curtains around her. It’s nearly pitch black in the room, but Serena knows the blonde woman is staring straight at her, looking right into her eyes. She witnesses an arm raise, a finger pointing to her sleeping husband beside her. It’s the first time the blonde lady has ever moved while visiting Serena. She almost convinced herself it was just her imagination, her mind playing a trick on her as the stresses of life build on top of one another.

But now the woman is here, and she is pointing at Serena’s husband, but Serena doesn’t want to look away. She doesn’t want the blonde lady to disappear again. Edward snores loudly and shuffles in his sleep, breaking Serena’s concentration. She automatically glances at him, doesn’t need to look back at the window to know what she’ll find: nothing.

Serena wakes up the next morning and meets with a lawyer. Seven months later her and Edward are divorced.

 

The last time the blonde woman from the Red Room visits Serena, it is like any other normal day. Her appearance tells Serena otherwise, but she can’t fathom what could possibly go wrong today. It’s been years since she’s seen the blonde lady, months since she thought about her or Hill House.

She has just finished her last surgery of the day and begins to scrub out. She starts the routine: water, sponge, water, scrub, water, scrub, water, done. She’s on her second scrub when she glances up at the theatre she just operated in, a small cry coming from her mouth. She’s there, the blonde woman. She’s standing in the center of the room, staring. Serena stops scrubbing her hands and lets the water run, stares right back.

It could have been seconds, hours, years, and Serena wouldn’t have known how long she stood there staring at a ghost nobody else can see. The moment is broken by the senior nurse bursting into the scrub room, out of breath and bad news tumbling from his lips.

He barely says the name “Elinor” before Serena is running.

 

She half expects her to show up when she pulls the life support, maybe even be at Elinor’s funeral. Somewhere in this horrible sequence of events, Serena expects her to appear.

But she never does. Serena is alone in the hospital, drives herself to the funeral, doesn’t really talk to anyone at the wake. She’s alone and she wonders why the blonde woman isn’t here. Her life feels devoid of meaning without her daughter, and she wants to know if the ghost of her past can help her forget the pain. There’s so much pain.

She waits days, weeks even, but Serena can’t find the blonde lady. She can’t find a long forgotten feeling of happiness. Everything is black. Empty.

Three weeks after she buries her daughter, Serena sits up in the middle of the night, hand flying to her throat to try and catch her breath. She woke up at 12:03 and it felt like she was being choked, her neck stiff and aching. With sudden clarity in the night, she knows. The blonde woman hasn’t come to her again because she’s waiting.

She’s waiting for Serena to go home.

 

She parks her car outside the gates and looks at the window. Hill House looms over her, boarded windows not blocking out the demons and darkness inside. When she gets out of her car, the lights inside the house start to glow, bathing Serena in a warm light. She doesn’t hesitate when she walks inside. The house looks dead inside now, a rotting carcass in the middle of nowhere. She passes the grand staircase and takes a left, a right, and walks up the spiral stairs towards the Red Room. Towards her.

It’s still there, at the end of the hall, the red door waiting to be opened. As she gets closer though, it opens by itself. Serena falters for the first time, her feet slightly tripping over each other as she sees what’s inside. It’s the blonde woman with the first smile Serena has ever seen on her face. But there, right behind her, a few inches shorter, is her. Serena’s daughter. It’s Elinor. To the right, her father.

She keeps walking, her steps a little quicker now, and stops right on the threshold. The woman who has haunted her since she was a child lifts her hand up to Serena’s face, lightly tracing a finger down her cheek, wiping away a few tears along the way. _Bernie._ The name flashes in Serena’s mind, and she knows it’s her name. After all these years, she finally has a name.

“Time is not a straight line. It goes forward and loops back around, takes a left at the light and then down the next road. Time follows no one, it’s all just snow. It sprinkles around us in snapshots, never forming anything solid. But it’s time to come home now, Serena.”

“It is?”

Three hands reach out to her, beckoning her forward. “Come home.”

Serena takes them and walks into the Red Room, letting herself be pulled forward as the door slowly closes behind them. She is home, she has found her Eurydice. Hell is her heaven, her final resting place. 

She never walks back out.


	15. trying to live without your love is one long sleepless night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first thing that registers is the headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, I KNOW. 1) it has been awhile, and i have no other excuse besides schoolwork and final exams and Lack of Motivation- which should be a diagnosable disease and 2) I KNOW what happened, i've seen the episode, and it sucks okay??? i know it sucks, which is why we're all here to read some fanfic to work through our catharsis and cry it out. 
> 
> this chapter is nothing to do with the latest episodes, it is completely AU and i wrote it awhile ago but never posted it. although, i am currently working on a response to the canon bullshit so i can feel a little better about everything. however, it's taking me awhile because i listen to sad music and cry every time i try to sit down and write it. i'm working on it though, it's getting there. 
> 
> song title from the jackson 5 my loves

The first thing that registers is the headache.

It feels like someone cracked open her skull, punched her brain, sutured it back together, and then hit her upside the head with a hammer for good measure. Something feels off, but she can’t quite put her finger on it. She barely manages to crack one eye open and squint at the window. The gray light of the early morning is barely peeking through, and Serena counts her blessings that she can still sleep for a few hours before the day demands her attention. The insistent throbbing in her head is merciless and any excuse to ignore it is welcome. As she closes her eye and falls back into the drowsiness of sleep once more, she swears she feels a movement from the other side of the bed.

She’s asleep before she can even properly think about it.

 

The first thing that registers when she wakes for the second time is the light.

The curtains are haphazardly drawn together, allowing the light of the day to shine through and land on her face. Her headache is still there, but it’s more manageable now, less life threatening. She slowly turns her head and scans the part of the room she can see. She quickly remembers where she is- _medical conference in Vegas, of all places, hence the hangover._ She notices some clothes strewn about the floor, and oh, that’s a top she doesn’t recognize, and- oh, _oh_.

This time Serena definitely feels something moving on the other side of the bed. A quick observation reveals that she is very much naked underneath the duvet, and _goddammit_ , what did she do this time? She tries to recollect the previous evening’s events, but it’s all black after she and Bernie entered the third casino of the night. Speaking of Bernie, Serena hopes she’s okay, hopes she made it back to her room last night. If her own headache is anything to go by, Bernie probably won’t be doing much better.

Another movement from the person in her bed brings her attention back to the present. She tries to slowly turn her body over, crane her neck to see what godforsaken specimen she invited into her bed last night. She sees the lump of another body, but the person is completely burrowed under the duvet. Serena quickly dismisses the thought of lifting it up to look, afraid of what she might find. The person seems a little… small. Thin. It’s not until her second sweep upon the figure that she notices the first piece of substantial evidence as to who it is.

But there it is. One golden curl. One stupid, short, piece of golden hair, and Serena immediately knows who is in her bed.

_Fuck_.

 

Bernie wakes up, but she does not open her eyes.

She is in so, _so_ much pain. She knows she really should have stopped after her fourth whiskey, but Serena taunted her and she’s never one to back down from a challenge. She tries to even out her breathing, _in and out, in and out. I’m in Vegas. I’m at a medical conference. I’m going to kill Serena Campbell for ordering that round of tequila shots._

But the second she feels somebody shift on the bed behind her, her eyes fly open.

 

She knows Bernie is awake now, and _oh my god, Bernie is awake now_.

She can feel her tense and try and stifle her movements, but she _knows_ Bernie is awake now.

She slowly, ever so slowly, lifts herself up to lean back against the headboard. _Maybe Bernie doesn’t know it’s me, maybe if I slip into the bathroom and lock myself inside, Bernie can flee and never know it was me._

She knows the thought is stupid as soon as it crosses her mind. Of course Bernie would know it was her, the leopard print blouse on the floor by the door is a dead giveaway. Looks like she’ll have to face the music.

So she waits it out.

She waits until Bernie musters the courage and the energy to look over her shoulder and face her own goddamn rhapsody.

 

There’s someone else in the bed beside her. _Fuck_. Bernie knows she’s naked the second she shifts her leg slightly. She’s naked and she’s in bed with someone she doesn’t know in a room she doesn’t recognize. She thinks it might be the same hotel, some of the décor is vaguely familiar. That still doesn’t help solve the mystery of _Who the Fuck Is in Bed Beside Me and How Did I Get Here?_ It’s killing her. She’ll find out soon enough though, she senses the other person moving and knows they’re awake. She looks around for any indication that this isn’t as bad as this seems, that she isn’t actually here, but instead her eyes land on a blouse by the door. Only one person would own that blouse, and only one person would be ballsy enough to wear it.

_Ah,_ _fuck_.

 

Serena doesn’t have to wait long for Bernie to move. One second she’s stock still and the next she’s sitting up and spinning to face Serena. In her haste she tumbles off the bed and pulls some of the sheets with her, wrapping them around her body and immediately bringing a hand to her head to try and alleviate the pain radiating throughout. Serena hastily pulls the duvet around her body to try and preserve some semblance of decency and, oh, there it is. Bernie’s naked too. Serena waits for Bernie to meet her eyes, and the second she does, a flash of a memory comes to her.

 

_“Bernie, wait.”_

_“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re right, we can stop-“_

_“Stop apologizing and shut up. I just meant my shirt is caught around my wrist.”_

_“Why didn’t you just say that then?”_

It’s gone as quickly as it came, but she can still feel Bernie’s lips on her neck, the memory seared into her skin. Bernie hesitates, but breaks the silence between them first.

“Serena… I, um… did we…?”

“What do you think?” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm and Bernie has the nerve to look flustered. They’re both here, they’re both naked, but you don’t see _Serena_ with a blush rapidly rising up her neck.

“Right, okay.” Bernie is looking everywhere but Serena, eyes darting around the room and mentally cataloguing every piece of furniture that is in disarray.

Serena thinks the frantic eye movements can’t be good for Bernie’s headache, so she tries to help. “Listen, this doesn’t have to be weird. We’re colleagues, we’re _friends_. And friends do this all the time, right?” The words sound fake and absolutely rubbish as they come out of her mouth and she internally cringes.

“I don’t know what friends you’ve been keeping, but I usually don’t sleep with mine.”

“If our state of undress is anything to go by, I think we did far more than sleep.” She can’t help but try and lighten the mood a little. The tension is stifling, and she needs all the air she can get right now, but Bernie disregards the joke and finally looks at Serena.

“Do you not remember anything either?” Serena shakes her head and they’re both slightly comforted by that.

“I don’t remember anything after the third casino.”

“The _third_ casino?”

“You heard me.”

“Right-“

“I swear to God, Bernie, if you say ‘right, okay’ one more time, I’m going to throw up.”

Now Bernie has the audacity to _smirk_ , as if they aren’t both naked underneath some blankets after apparently spending the night together. “You sure that isn’t just the seventh glass of Shiraz you had?”

“ _Seventh_? Dear Lord.” Serena groans and buries her face in her hands, trying to block out the mortification she feels creeping up her spine.

“Okay, what do we do now?”

“You think I have an answer for that? I woke up five minutes ago only to find out that I had sex with my best friend.”

“Good point.” Serena pushes her hair away from her face in an effort to keep some dignity and notices Bernie’s face harden and her grip on the sheet tighten.

“Serena.”

“What?”

“What the fuck is _that_?” She follows Bernie’s line of sight to her left hand and sees a glint of gold. _You have got to be fucking kidding me._

She looks back up at Bernie with wide eyes and disbelief framing her face. She wants to check, _needs_ to check, but she can’t bring herself to look at Bernie’s own left hand. “Bernie, please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

Bernie glances down, looks back up, and Serena _knows_. Bernie lifts her left hand up and a matching gold ring is looking back at Serena. “I’m afraid I can’t.”

_You have got to be fucking kidding me._

“Okay, it’s fine. This is fine. Everything is fine. So what we got hitched in Vegas? No big deal.” Serena almost lifts her hands to try and placate the situation but quickly remembers why she has a white knuckled grip on the duvet. She can practically feel Bernie’s anxiety filling up every open space in the room, and Serena tries to keep her own feeling of panic at bay.

“ _No big deal?”_

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, no big deal. We got married and consummated it. No big deal.” One of Bernie’s arms is starting to swing wildly around her in time with her words, and Serena feels her headache worsening, the situation all a little bit too much for the current state of her mental and physical being.

“I can practically hear you getting on a plane to flee to a foreign country right now.”

“ _Serena_.”

“Sorry.” An awkward silence settles, and Serena finds that she doesn’t really know the etiquette for a situation like this. She desperately needs a shower and a glass of water, but there’s still the fact that she is very much naked under the duvet she is clutching to her chest. Bernie seems to sense her apprehension, and starts to gather her clothes, which is impressive for someone with a blinding hangover, because every single article of clothing she was wearing last night is in a different corner of the room.

“I’m just gonna…” Bernie points to the bathroom and Serena nods her head. When the door closes, she gently eases herself from the bed and gathers her own clothes, quickly throwing something on that will hopefully salvage the last shred of pride she has left. Bernie emerges from the en suite as she does up the last button on her shirt. She pauses in the doorway, actively trying not to look at Serena’s exposed legs and the accentuated curve of her hips.

“Bernie… we should talk about this. Actually talk.”

“I know, I know. Let’s just handle one thing at a time, yeah? I could really use a shower and a coffee.”

“Okay.” Bernie sighs and Serena gives her a soft smile before disappearing into the bathroom, resisting the urge to run her hand down Bernie’s arm as she passes her.

 

_“Serena, are you sure about this?”_

_“Bernie, I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”_

_“I just want to make sure we’re doing this for the right reasons.”_

_“I love you, you love me. Can it be more right than that?”_

Bernie lets the hot water from the shower wash over her face as broken memories of last night slowly fade back into her consciousness. She bangs her head against the wall once, twice, and releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She turns the water off and retrieves a towel when there’s a knock on her hotel door. She quickly wraps herself up in a modicum of decency and opens the door to see Serena holding a coffee in each hand with a timid smile plastered on her face.

“Extra shot?” She holds the coffee out as an offering and Bernie takes it with a grateful hum. It’s not until she notices Serena pointedly looking at the floor that she realizes she is still in her towel, water droplets running down her body.

“Come in, I just need to get dressed.” Serena follows her in and she heads back to the bathroom. When she walks back into the room Serena is perched on the very edge of one of the corners of the bed, tense shoulders giving away how uncomfortable she is.

“I’m sorry.”

Bernie sits on the edge of the bed opposite Serena, not trusting herself to reach out if she sits any closer. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I just feel like this is my fault. From what I can remember-“

“From what I can remember, we were both willing participants. This is just as much my fault as it is yours.” Bernie nods and lets Serena provide reason to their predicament. She knows she’s right, Serena would never put herself in a situation unless she was willing, but Bernie knows Shiraz exuberates Serena’s tendencies for sticky situations and moral messes.

“What do we do now?”

“I don’t think we need to get it annulled or anything, I’m pretty sure it’s not even valid.”

They’ve been slowly inching their way towards each other, close enough to touch, to bump knees. “Is that something you would want?” Bernie whispers the question, afraid of the answer she might receive. This honestly isn’t the worst problem she’s ever faced, and if she’s being honest with herself, it’s not even that much of a problem. Waking up married to Serena Campbell is her dream come true, she just wishes they hadn’t skipped all the steps in between. Too many days has she been too afraid to question if Serena returns her feelings, but now she is dreading the moment she has to wait for the answer.

“What?” Serena is looking at her with wide eyes, disbelief written all over her face. She doesn’t look disgusted, which is a win in Bernie’s book, just surprised.  

“If it was valid, would you want to get it annulled?” Bernie’s voice is stronger now, more sure. In for a penny, in for a pound. Go big or go home. Fake it until you make it. She started the conversation, and she’s not finishing it without an answer, despite the outcome. If their drunk selves can have the courage to get married, their sober selves can get through this conversation.

“Would you?” Bernie chooses to ignore Serena’s deflecting, aware that she’s probably just as scared as she is. Upon closer inspection, she doesn’t look scared because she’s going to have to let Bernie down, she looks scared of rejection. In that moment, Bernie decides to be brave for the both of them, takes the leap they’ve both been too scared to risk.

“No.”

_“Bernie, when we wake up in the morning, are we going to regret this?”_

_“No.”_

_“You sound so sure.”_

_“I am.”_

_“How?”_

_“Because I love you.”_

_“And I love you.”_

_“And I promise to always love you even when you drink your weight in wine and threaten to throw up on my new shirt.”_

_“Bernie?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Shut up.”_


End file.
